The Eagle and the Dragon, a Novel of Rome and China Page 2

  “Unfortunately, most of them are, and you don’t want to turn your back on the ones that aren’t. But the Senator has something better in mind for you.” He slid the expensively-filigreed black wax tablet across the desk to Gaius.

  Gaius picked it up and recognized Aulus’ meticulous uncial script. He read the usual florid greetings between two senior people who didn’t know each other, then stopped to read and re-read the last paragraph.

  “You find it interesting?” asked the legatus.

  “Hmm... I don’t know where to start to ask questions.”

  The legatus retrieved a small bottle from the drawer of the deck. “It’s not yet noon, but would you care for some wine?” he asked, offering the tribune a brass goblet. “I doubt if I could answer them, but go ahead.”

  “Yes, thank you, your Excellency,” said Gaius, accepting the goblet while the legatus filled it, though uneasy about the unexpected familiarity.

  “How is the wine? It is a local vintage.”

  The wine had a tart taste, most refreshing. “Very fine, your Excellency. But let me assure you,” Gaius said with a chuckle, “I seldom indulge this early in the day!”

  “I thought you would find his offer interesting. You have heard of the Hanae?”

  “I have, but what is fantasy, what is real… I don’t know.”

  Lucius Julius rose and walked over to a fine map finished in fine gold and rich colors, covering all of Europe from Britain to Judea, and on eastward to India. And beyond India, still further, and from the Hyperborean north far south into Africa. Gaius recognized the Mediterranean coastline, but that familiar part of the map seemed disturbingly small and far to the left. He pointed out the distant easternmost boundaries of the map.

  "Gaius, the Hanae are very real,” he said, “and they control an empire located about here. I presume you have bought some silk, or have at least seen it?" asked Lucius Julius. Gaius nodded. "The Hanae make silk. From, of all things, some sort of spider or insect, it is rumored. We trade indirectly with them for that and for many other things, by ship through India.” His finger traced the route on the map. “A long trip, but not too bad, the sailors say. Our traders tell us that the Hanae are our equals in art and science, population and size of territory. We expect they are militarily strong as well. We need to know more about these people. They may be potential allies, to serve as the anvil to Rome's hammer against the Parthians. On the other hand, it might be better if Parthia and ourselves settled our grievances to ally together against the Hanae, as they might be more formidable than either of us alone. We don’t know. In any event, only a few thousand miles separate our borders now. That gap could close in our lifetime.” Lucius Julius returned to his seat, and took another sip of wine. "You've had an excellent career so far. Risen to cohort command, elected tribune of soldiers by the men. That’s quite an honor. The troops do not pick their leaders because of family connections. A gifted fighter, leader, and orator, with extensive experience in combat. Senator Aulus Aemilius is offering you an opportunity for you to master new skills in diplomacy and politics."

  Gaius' heart sank. “Your Excellency, politicians make poor soldiers and soldiers make poor politicians. The two are incompatible."

  "Nonsense, Gaius. As a legion commander, politics will be your business. As a field officer, you have been trained to fight. As a potential commander, we must teach you when not to fight. We maintain our empire with just thirty six legions,” Maximus sighed. “And almost all in the wrong place at the wrong time. The legions hold the Empire together with politics, the art of the possible, the science of perceptions. We use force when necessary, like we did thirty years ago to put down the Judaean rebellion. That message was not lost on our Parthian friends, who had helped instigate the uprising."

  He paused, then continued in a softer tone, “But for every display of force, we have to manage our forces to make fighting unnecessary, and guarantee that any fights we do take on will be victories. That way we look invincible, even when we are vulnerable. And that is the job of the commander, Gaius.” The legate lowered his voice still further, sounding almost fatherly.

  “The Senator needs you to accompany him to grasp the military and technical aspects of this mission, to learn how the Hanaeans handle armies, organize their cities. In short, you will be a soldier, a scholar and a spy. So, again, do you find his offer interesting?"

  Gaius was flattered and interested at his nomination to be his cousin’s military aide, but the task was clearly daunting. "Yes, your Excellency. How long would this mission be?”

  “It is hard to say, Gaius, but I would expect it to be two or three years.”

  Gaius’ heart fell, the idea of a family visit becoming more and more remote.

  “Aulus Aemilius expects me in Alexandria around the Ides of March. Do you know when he expects to leave?”

  “You will have to ask him that when you get there.”

  Nothing to negotiate! Getting to Alexandria by then would mean weeks of hard riding, and it will be unlikely that he will give me two or three months to go to Neapolis. Three years cut off from Camilla. So bargain hard, make him give me a reason to turn this down.

  “Aulus… Senator Aulus Aemilius asked for me and such as may accompany me. How large a group might I take?"

  "A small group. Two, to be precise. You and one of your choosing. That’s all I can spare. Do you have anyone in mind?”

  "I have one man, your Excellency, that I insist accompany me. That man is Antonius Aristides."

  "Aristides! The primus pilus? Not only am I losing you, my best cohort commander, but the legion’s first lance as well! From the same cohort! Why him? Why not one of the younger tribunes?"

  "We have served together since I was a green subaltern on the Danube. I see things from the commander’s perspective. He sees things from the soldier’s perspective. I need one person that I can trust totally. He is that person."

  "Well, I hope we don't have any action here the next year or so while we put the First Cohort back in order. Very well.” The legate scribbled on the scroll on his desk, then dropped a glob of hot wax onto it and sealed it with his iron senatorial ring. He picked it up and blew on it to cool it. "Very well. I have inked in both your names to the imperial order assigning you this task.” He passed the scroll to Gaius. “You may now read your orders."

  Gaius accepted the scroll, the highest quality Augustan papyrus, reading quickly: From Caesar Nerva Trajan… skip all the titles… Legatus Gaius Lucullus… what, legatus? Must be a mistake! Accompany the Senator Aulus Aemilius Galba, and proceed to the kingdom of the Hanae…assist him in his actions as my personal emissary… my greetings and best wishes to the King of all the Hanae… two talents of gold as my personal token of respect. Gaius calculated in his head, about five hundred thousand sesterces. It is the intent of the Senate and the people of Rome to gain in mutual knowledge of each other's lands, cultures and language…our two kingdoms to be united forever in friendship. Report to me personally upon your return. Given this day, the Nones of February, in the Eight Hundred and Fifty Third year of the founding of the City of Rome, Caesar Nerva Traianus, Imperator Senatus Consulto, etc., etc..."

  At the bottom was the flourishing signature of the Emperor himself, and his personal seal. At the left was the legatus' signature and seal.

  "Very well. Do you accept these orders, Gaius Lucullus?"

  Gaius’ thoughts whirled in his head, delaying his response. Imperial orders signed by Trajan? That is way above my cousin’s wax tablet letter request. And promotion to legate! I don’t think I ever had any choice in this matter. But Camilla? My being gone so long?

  "Y..Yes, your Excellency!"

  "Very well. You are now a legatus without a legion, but if you have any success, I am sure we can find you one. Just remember, there are no posthumous commands, so try not to get killed along the way!” Maximus chuckled. “Don’t worry, this looks like an easy trip. See the librarii clerks on the way out. They will prepare yo
ur promotion to legate, and imperial orders to requisition supplies and transportation as needed. Check in with Quintus Albus, the legate of the III Cyrenaica in Alexandria. My correspondence will go through him, so no loose ends due to missed mail. Keep me posted on your itinerary as far as Sabaiae.

  “Good luck, Gaius. Oh, and one more thing... I wish I were twenty years younger. I’d make the trip myself!"

  They shook hands, then Gaius Lucullus turned briskly to depart the Praetorium for the officia, where the librarii clerks had already prepared the promotion, properly sealed, travel money and a year’s advance pay totaling twenty thousand sesterces.

  Antonius was dozing on his bunk in the centurions’ tent when Gaius patted his boot to awaken him. “Special assignment on imperial orders, Antonius. You’re going with me to the land of the Hanaeans as my aide-de-camp,” he said grinning, knowing the reaction he would get.

  He got it. Antonius hurled himself erect, wide-eyed at the news. "Begging yer pardon, sir, but yer have signed me on as what? Where?” The centurion fumed, angry and confused at leaving a prestigious position for some political adventure about which he knew nothing. “This legion is fallin' apart an' here we are skippin' off ter visit some mythical land? On imperial orders, no less? Me young tribune, people get their heads lifted from their shoulders muckin' about with politics they don't understand. Yer free ter go, of course, and the gods go with ye, but why take me? I got no head fer that work. Me, I'm a straight-talking, sword-slinging, foot-sloggin', mud-lovin', whoremongerin' soldier what's got two years to me diploma an’ me equestrianship. Beggin' yer pardon, but please let me stay on here and turn these miserable ragamuffins into soldiers of the Empire. I was just gettin' the hang of talkin' with these Judaeans an' Syrians. Yer don' want me muckin' up some court floor with me muddy shoes. I'd be an embarrassment ter yer, tribunus." Antonius’ Latin grew even coarser when he was upset.

  Gaius Lucullus smiled at the centurion's consternation. "Go on with yourself, Antonius. I wouldn't expect so much noise if I had asked you to crucify yourself. You just named all the good reasons why I want you along. You're a straight-talking, sword-swinging, foot-slogging soldier. Just what I need. I do regret having signed you onto this journey without telling you about it. But I had about as much choice in these orders then as you do now. The legatus was nicer about it, of course, Senatus Populusque Romanum SPQR stuff, but in the end, the ambassador had picked me to fulfill these imperial orders and I was going whether I liked it or not. Oh, and promoted me to legatus to sweeten it. So in fine Roman army tradition, profluit ex satio, it has all flowed downhill. Who are you going to pick for the new primus pilus?"

  Primus pilus, the "first lance", was the senior centurion of the legion, the most coveted position a humble foot soldier could hope for. He represented his soldiers, supervised their training, and advised commanders on tactics. He was loved and feared by the troops, despised and needed by the officers. The first lance was critical to the legion. Antonius took this responsibility seriously, and if he had to give it up, he would give it up to someone capable.

  "Well, it ain't goin' ter be me optio second in charge, legatus,” said Antonius, accepting the inevitable. “Lad don't have the backbone ter take on the orficers on their own terms. Maybe more experience, he be strong enough, but not yet. Maybe Lucius Ratullus, in Third Cohort..."

  Gaius Lucullus smiled and left the crusty Greek centurion to his devices. This could be good for Antonius. This assignment really doesn’t look particularly difficult. Language will be the biggest problem, but other than that, we will be going in with official paperwork, representatives of Rome. Espionage can get one killed, but if it we limit ourselves to watching troops train, and maybe observing a few real battles, that isn’t quite the same as riffling through secret files or meddling in court intrigues. Maybe start a dictionary and grammar, some maps, some names. And bring all this back to the emperor in a nice report. Antonius could figure prominently in the report and retire properly with a nice bonus. He deserves more than just forty acres in some barren place no one else could farm.

  But what about Camilla and the children?

  CHAPTER 3: THE BULL AND THE DOVE

  Gaius Lucullus and Antonius rode with a vexillatio detachment of cavalry to Alexandria from Syria. They arrived in the early morning, skirting the city walls on their way to the fort west of the city where the Legio III Cyrenaica was garrisoned.

  “Seems a shame not ter at least go through the city after three weeks of travelin’” muttered Antonius, watching the low walls roll by on his right.

  “I think after three weeks of traveling, if this vexillatio went in the east gate, it might be hard to get them out the west gate and on the road again,” said Gaius, grinning. “It’s been a long trip.”

  “Worst was Judea. You’d think if yer’d lost the war as bad as they did thirty years ago, they’d not keep tryin’ ter fight on. Bandits and rebels! Me shoulder blades was itching, thinkin’ I was goin’ ter stop an arrow with ‘em!”

  “Well, that was why we didn’t go alone,” said Gaius with a wry grin.

  After another hour, the stone fort came into view. Riding in through the gates, they exchanged amused glances about the lax security.

  “Guards saluted us, legatus, but they never asked who we was nor what we was doin’,” quipped Antonius, scowling

  “I guess you just come and go as you please here. Rough life here in the III Cyr, stuck on the outskirts of ‘the Pearl of the Mediterranean.’ Let’s check in with the librarii at the headquarters officia over there,” said Gaius with a wry smile.

  They dropped off their well-worn horses for a much-needed rest at the livery, conveniently next to the officia. Antonius arranged for fresh mounts for tomorrow, then they walked over the building. “Let’s get checked in and refreshed. I am going to the praetorium across the street to make an appointment with the legatus. Let’s get together after lunch and I’ll let you know the schedule.”

  “Right, sir! I’ll be stayin’ at the centurions’ quarters. I got some former messmates from the Danube there, if they’re still here.”

  “To be sure,” replied Gaius. “Have your parade dress kit laid out handy, I will let you know when our meeting with the legatus will be then. Hopefully not today, and certainly not in this traveling gear.”

  They checked in, apparently expected when they identified himself. Antonius was given a shell inscribed with a number to identify his bunk in his quarters, and headed off, lugging his gear. Gaius was given a swarthy Egyptian slave, clad only in a white linen kilt, to carry his baggage and escort him to his quarters. They made a brief stop at the praetorium across the fort’s main east-west street, the slave waiting outside. There Gaius found mail waiting for him, another one of Aulus’ elegant wax tablets, and most importantly, a letter from his wife Camilla, written on expensive paper, scented with her perfume and rolled in a tube, sealed with the family crest. And mercifully, the young soldier informed him that the III Cyr legatus was with the governor in Alexandria, and would not be available till mid-morning tomorrow. On a whim, Gaius got directions for the Library in the city. “Easy to find, sir, just follow the camp road to the Moon Gate on the western side. The big highway inside they call the Canopic Way, the Library is a huge columned building, maybe a quarter-mile on the right, opposite the Temple of Poseidon,” said the young soldier. “Can’t miss it, it’s a popular spot. I like to read the Greek love poems.”

  Gaius smiled and nodded at the lad. Some Greek love poetry could get pretty explicit, and he suspected that appealed as much to the soldier as did its iambic pentameter.

  In his quarters, he changed from his dusty battle gear worn the past several weeks, the leather dark with sweat and salt-stained, the helmet and body armor in need of polishing. He handed them to the slave, and slipped his sweat-soaked tunic over his head to add that to the pile in the man’s arms. The slave nodded wordlessly and left to tend to his gear.

  Gaius went to the fort’s bath ar
ea, took a massage from another Egyptian slave in the pool area, then returned to his room, clad only in a towel. He snagged an apple from a bowl of various fruits and sat down on his bed to read his correspondence. Aulus’ wax tablet was inscribed with directions to his villa on the west of town, fortuitously also on the camp road. He wanted Gaius to join him at sunset on the night he arrived. And the Twelfth had thoughtfully passed on the letter from Camilla, forwarded in Maximus’ own handwriting.

  He was slow to open his wife’s letter. He opened his locket to gaze at a tiny miniature painting of Camilla, not two inches across. It captured her carefully-done blonde hair and shy smile. It was his most valuable possession, done at great cost during his last extended time home. He hadn’t been home since then, a year and a half ago.

  He finally unrolled Camilla’s letter and read it. She was her usual effervescent self, going on about the children and their progress. Gaius Secundus was almost ten, and making great progress in oratory and Greek. Lucia Luculla was eight and a terrible tomboy. Gaius started to compose an answer, but decided to wait to ask Aulus about a trip home before departure. Three years! He hoped he might be back before his son turned fourteen and donned his man’s toga.

  Antonius checked in, refreshed himself and changed into a light white tunic. He then went to find the Third’s travel clerks. He had begun some research on this area before detaching from the Twelfth. Each legion’s librarii maintained, among everything else in their files, maps, travel reports, travelers’ and merchants’ accounts of various areas near their area of responsibility. While the Red Sea was far removed from the Twelfth’s area, the legion was responsible for providing vexillatio detachments for security at the customs entry point at Coptos and the two main Red Sea ports, Myos Hormos and Berenice, and had all the necessary information to get them there. Antonius chuckled to himself, as he thought of the riff-raff the Twelfth had scraped up to meet their annual commitment of a century of troops to support them. Both ports had naval squadrons stationed there. Piracy was a day-to-day occurrence in the Red Sea, attracted by the gold and silver going out and valuable trade goods coming in. Antonius wondered what sort of security would be on the ship, what sort of weapons? Perhaps he should think about helping train the crew? Questions to ask later. Right now, he wanted to confirm what he learned in Syria with local information, and get a feel for booking passage on the Red Sea, if perhaps their ships were elsewhere.