PART II - Chapter XVI - 'Welcomes and Terrors'

by Michael Wyndham Thomas

Marcus returns to Canovium, where Vectis greets him with the gift he'd promised the Tribune at their last meeting on Mona. The engineer assures him that everything is as it was before his departure, but Marcus soon realises that this is hardly the case. The tactics of military life have changed--in the south, where Paullinus is now pursuing a campaign more deadly than in the days of Boudica; and in Canovium and Mona, where the wellbeing of a certain commander has clearly become more important than obedience to Rome.

'A promise made is a debt unpaid,' the voice called loudly. 'And all that.'

Marcus had spotted the figure long before he rode through the gateway of Canovium; swaying and jigging, it was holding up what at first seemed like one of Bacchus's more bizarre satyrs. As he drew nearer, the figure resolved itself into Vectis, and the satyr became a burnished eagle. Marcus remembered his last talk with the engineer, that long-ago day on Mona; so, Vectis had found some free time--and some spare copper, too.

'Actually,' he called as he dismounted, 'haven't we landed ourselves in trouble? You for hiving off Imperial metal, me for encouraging it?'

Vectis clutched his creation to his chest in a gesture of contrition, then shrugged:

'They can't blame us for wanting an official talisman here at Canovium, or Collis, or wherever you like. We can loan it out as a battle mascot if it makes you happier.'

Mention of battle instantly brought back the musings which had plagued Marcus off and on during his leave, making it so tricky to absorb Vinitor's wisdom on vineyardship. He was conscious that, at this precise moment, he wanted Vectis to utter one long sentence, without breath, chronicling everything that had happened in his absence and revealing to whom it had happened. With an effort, he suppressed his impatience: heavens above, he hadn't greeted the engineer properly yet.

For a second or two, this proved a problem. Vectis was again brandishing the promised eagle, and Marcus had to duck and dodge in order to embrace him. Not that he minded greatly--but the battle wounds on his face hadn't long healed, and there would be something humiliating in having them reopened by the flap of an ornamental wing. Finally, feeling somewhat like Gravis welcoming Alacer from his lessons, he took the bird from its creator's erratic grasp, placed it on the ground and thanked him for his welcome:

'And how have things been here?' he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

'Ah,' said Vectis. 'Answering that is a two-amphorae proposition. Come.'

Other voices assailed Marcus on their way to headquarters:

'Hail Tribune,' came a stone-rattling boom, and Marcus turned to see Firmus marching from the stables at the head of a newly-returned patrol.

'Hail, Firmus,' replied Marcus. Before he was aware of it, his hand was flat to his chest and he was calling, 'Hail Nero.' Something in his tone made Vectis, Firmus and the legionnaries all stop and look about.

'He's never tagging along with you is he?' breathed Vectis, squinting back at the gateway and holding the eagle like a cosh.

'Reflexive sense of duty,' murmured Marcus, looking in bafflement at Firmus and his patrol, who blinked or scratched their heads before trudging on.

'The gods be thanked,' said Vectis. 'For a second I thought he'd come to assess whether riotous Britannia was worth keeping on the Imperial books.'

'Riotous?'

'Figure of speech, Tribune. No, no more Boudicas have popped out of the fields and marshes. Much to tell you, though--but we'll toss a coin for who speaks first.'

Marcus lost. He sighed heavily. Under other circumstances, he would have happily spoken of his family: Gravis's enduring mannerisms, Fovera's love for him, Lenita's persuasive words, Alacer's single-mindedness, the old head on Venia's young shoulders. He would have even held forth about his lessons among the vines, allowing Vectis a joke or two at his expense. But his head was still spinning after the vagaries of his long, long journey, and he knew that the only remedy for that was to hear how things stood in Cambria--and the whole of the land. Still, he had agreed to the engineer's terms (though he told himself now that Vectis might have used a double-headed coin).

'Your family send warmest salutations and love, Vectis,' he began. 'They made me wonderfully welcome. And as you promised, Livorno itself is--' Vectis laid a hand on his arm, topping up his goblet with the other.

'I see your eagerness, Tribune, even through the weariness in your eyes. Very well, my bet is off. Make yourself comfortable.' Marcus sat back, and the engineer attended to his own goblet.

'Repacification measures,' he began. Marcus frowned. 'That's the business we're in now, Marcus. Or rather, Paullinus is. Our triumph over the Icenian queen was, to say the least, qualified. Guerilla warfare is the order of the day in the south--and as long as the rebels pursue that, Paullinus must be about the business of repacifying.'

'Repacifying,' repeated Marcus, rolling the word about his tongue, wrinkling his nose at its taste. 'I sense a word newly minted in Rome.'

'Oh, no--straight from the mouth of Decianus Catus, no doubt, before he decamped. Wherever it came from, though, it's shorthand for slaughter. That, at least, is what I've winkled out of the official messages we've received. Paullinus is--now what did one chap say?-- "discouraging any overture or show of rebel surrender." '

'Killing them off before they can twitch a muscle?'

'Exactly so, Tribune. Everywhere--from Duroliponte, right in the heart of Iceni land, to Sorviodunum in the west. And when he's not slaughtering he's building mighty fortresses for housing and deploying vexillations. I thought I might be summoned to help--I was told I would, in fact, at Duroliponte itself. Then another order countermanded that.'

'I must say,' observed Marcus, 'that part of me wouldn't have been surprised to find you'd gone elsewhere.'

'The old thinking prevails, Tribune, as it did before you left. Paullinus is still convinced that there's another Caratacus lurking in Cambria. And it's true that we haven't escaped without bruises in your absence. But if there's to be full rebellion in these parts, it's taking its time in coming. Still, we're meant to regard the region as' --he paused, searching for another gem from another messenger-- "a site whose potential for foment is not to be under-assessed." That's why I was told to stay put. They didn't want to shake up the team here.'

Marcus started at his last words. Spesis and Benevolus filled his thoughts, and he was minded to pull Vectis off the course of his account. His lips moved as he counselled himself to be patient. The engineer evidently had his tale carefully arranged; he would reach them in good time.

'Of course,' Vectis was now saying, 'they're still using the business at Camulodunum as justification for their strategies. And yes, it was a grave tragedy--but that line of talk is wearing a bit thin now. Even the legionaries think so.'

'But it's business as usual here?'

'Like you never left, Tribune. Patrols, sorties, fortifications. Scapha and his carpenters keep the boats in trim. Decurio reports regularly from Varis. And there's my work on Mona. I must say that Spesis and Benevolus are taking to engineering as zealously as you did--with all respect. Tignum agrees, too.'

'They're over on the island? That isn't how it stood when I left. I thought they were supposed to make their base here.'

'So they have--in a rolling sort of way. And they're not always over there together. But when they are, I'm here, on behalf of--well, this,' and he tapped the copper eagle's head with his foot.

'Kindly explain this surprising rota, engineer.'

'Tactics, Marcus. You know the cloud that was hanging over Spesis when you left. Benevolus told me of the talk you three had, how you looked at Spesis as though he were a dead man. Well, I decided to drop a word or two in messengers' ears--all about the man's devotion to our work here, his budding skills as an engineer on Mona. Essential: that's how I described his efforts. I must have used 'indispensable' once or twice. Call it spreading a little smoke.'

Marcus smiled wryly: 'So, our Spesis is a reformed man, devoted once again to the greater cause'--and he gently kicked the eagle too.

Vectis returned his smile: 'I think you'll have to ask him about his reformation yourself, Tribune.' Then he grew serious: 'I know what received wisdom would say--better to keep him on the mainland if--well, if he needed to make a swift departure; not much scope for disappearance on Mona and all that. But Benevolus and I decided that moving him about would buy some time if . . . well, if time needed to be bought. Seems to be working, too. None of the messengers we've had here have been interested in anything except delivering their weighty news. They haven't been sniffing around for him. I think he's let his network go quiet, too. Not to say that it's totally folded, of course.'

Now Marcus was eyeing him in astonishment. He thought of all the times he'd wondered about the engineer--about how a subtle scepticism seemed to be encroaching upon his devotion to Rome. Now, it seemed that the process was all but complete.

'So you know everything, Vectis--about the rebel commander of Viriconium.'

'Difficult not to, Tribune, with said rebel, Benevolus and myself thrown together so much.'

At last, Marcus spoke his mind: 'So you're in the treason game too, engineer.' 'The humanity game, Tribune. The game of truth and honour. Spesis is committed to speaking out, and he will. But he can't magic himself away before the right time. We don't want to stir up suspicion.'

'And when will the right time be?'

Vectis leaned back and pressed his fingertips together: 'Oh, when the business of shunting him here and there loses its efficacy, I suppose. But that won't be for a while yet. Not now he's an indispensable engineer.'

'And Benevolus too, you tell me? With his wounds?'

Vectis laughed aloud: 'How dare you question my skills at assessing the man's worth, Tribune! No, he's well on the mend, I'm happy to say. He can nearly make a fist now. And he's been more than indispensable in the Spesis business. His valour in the southern campaign still carries a lot of weight. We've always tried to arrange for him to be here when messengers arrive. You should see the way they treat him--talk about deference. Or grovelling, if you like. It all helps, of course . . . .'

'To spread more smoke?'

'Why, to run the coastal and Mona forts efficiently, Tribune, as we've been charged to do.' And Vectis laughed again.

Just then a legionary materialised beside them. 'Hail, Tribune,' he said, then turned to Vectis with what looked like a coded look.

'The rest of our tales will have to keep awhile,' said Vectis when he'd gone.

'What was that expression for?'

'More business with the walking wounded, I'm afraid. Currerus, remember? That blow to his back on Mona?'

'He seemed to be making a full recovery when I left,' said Marcus.

'So we all thought. But the poor warrior ebbs and flows. Come, Tribune, we'll attend to him. But I've yet to hear about Livorno and Cremona.' As Vectis spoke those words, something like pain seemed to cross his face.

'Don't tell me you've damaged yourself as well,' said Marcus.

Instantly, Vectis began massaging his left shoulder: 'Occupational hazard, Tribune. Tignum suffers in the same way.'

Marcus pursed his lips. He was willing to believe that professional demands explained part of the engineer's discomfort--but not all, perhaps. Had he developed a network himself and gained troubling news of his home and family? They seemed perfectly fine when Marcus had visited them. Then again, any outsider would have said the same about the Spatula clan.

But now Fretus was in the doorway, clearly concerned about his fellow scout's condition. Scapha was beside him; again, the air was filled with brief but heartfelt greetings.

'Boat's just about ready, sir,' Scapha told Vectis, who nodded and turned to Marcus:

'For your benefit. Trip to Mona to see my proteges. Day after tomorrow, we thought, if all's well with the weather.'

'As you decide, engineer,' replied Marcus. 'I know they're well, and that's enough for now.' And they all hurried to the small garrison hospital.

End of Chapter XVI

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