Part I - Chapter IX -

Suetonius Paullinus was nothing if not organised. Before launching any truly significant offensive, he would ensure that, militarily speaking, all other parts of his house were in order. So it was that, prior to his third campaign season in northern Cambria, he gathered exhaustive information on the status of the XIV legion--the Augusta--garrisoning the south-west, and the IX legion--the Hispana--overseeing the eastern regions from Camulodunum north to Lindum. All appeared well--or as well as could be expected--during the autumn of 58AD (although the Hispana would soon find itself at the heart of a rebellion which would make one Briton's name as memorable as Caratacus's). Such care was, of course, standard gubernatorial practice. With Paullinus, however, it was a matter of especial pride; and the more punctilious he was in such matters, the more obvious it was that a truly major campaign was in the offing.

Naturally, details of the campaign emerged piecemeal, to protect the element of surprise on which the Imperial effort so greatly relied. (Spying had inevitably become a crucial native endeavour, alongside ploughing and husbandry.) For a while, it seemed that the island of Mona, much talked of at the end of Paullinus's last campaign, no longer figured in his thinking. Instead, as the cold weather began to bite in, the name of Mediolanum appeared here, there and everywhere in dispatches. A settlement some twenty-five miles north of Viroconium, it had not thus far been on anyone's lips, officially or even in gossip. Marcus, Spesis and Benevolus conferred by messenger--and, when they could, in person--as each new piece of Paullinus's jigsaw fell their way.

'Mediolanum, then,' said Spesis reflectively, late one evening in mid-September. He and Benevolus had arranged to rendezvous with Marcus at Collis, to share the contents of the latest dispatches and try some educated guesswork about the new campaign. 'That means I'll be playing host to everybody. An august crowd, too'; and his eye ran down the list of Imperial muscle that was due to base itself in or around the little known place.

'Indeed,' said Marcus. 'Most of the XX and the XIV legions.'

'Valeria Victrix,' murmured Benevolus. 'I've always thought the XX could never fail with a name like that. We're honoured to be part of it, Marcus.'

'Yes, the XIV could do with something similar,' said Spesis. 'Gemina. I ask you. Sounds like a Capitoline handmaiden.' He looked about him, grinning: 'Vectis isn't in earshot, is he? I know my treasonable banter gets on his Livornian wick.'

'He wouldn't thank you for mentioning Livorno in that way, either,' said Marcus. 'He's as proud of his home city as I am of Cremona. But no, he's no doubt sleeping like an infant. He's had a lot of restoration work of late: forts and roads. Our unbiddable natives have been hard at it.'

'So I noticed,' said Benevolus. 'I thought the whole of Rome had turned out to grade that stretch west of Salinae.'

'Ah!' said Spesis. 'Perhaps that's part of the Governor's plan. Assemble every living Roman, then pack them into Northern Cambria, so there's no air left for the natives. Conquest by asphyxiation.' He brooded: 'I suppose it has some kind of brutal merit,' he added quietly. 'Not the kind of thing I'd sanction, but, well, that's Suetonius for you.'

'Honoured Spesis,' interrupted Marcus, unsure whether to laugh or gasp astonishment, 'far be it from me to keep you from the wilds of your imagination. But I doubt that the good Paullinus would act on any whimsical advice from our more extreme thinkers.'

'My apologies gentlemen,' said Spesis. 'It was just my singular way of coping with the idea of this mass descent on Viroconium and points north.'

'Well obviously they wouldn't remain there, Spesis,' said Benevolus. 'I doubt that our governor has a working holiday in mind for two huge legions. Viroconium would only be a staging-point. Mediolanum too.'

'Staging-point for what, Commander?' asked Spesis.

Marcus sighed: they had come right back to the start of their conversation. He tried a new tack: 'Well, I can hardly think that Mona is now out of his calculations. We've had two excellent campaigns in mainland Cambria, achieving everything that Quintus Veranius began--Scapula and Gallus too, it must be said. I can't see the logic in a third land campaign on its own.'

'True,' said Benevolus. 'So Paullinus must have an eye to native espionage. If the Ordovices and the rest come to believe that he does see the logic in such a campaign, a push for Mona will catch them napping.'

'Yes, quite so,' said Spesis brightly, heartened by the idea that Rome's best and toughest would not, in all likelihood, be tramping round Viroconium for too long. 'In fact, am I correct in thinking that all of our dispatches made frequent reference to 'reserved weaponry'?'

The others nodded assent. 'There we are,' continued Spesis. 'Amphibious craft and the like. It must mean that. Mona's still in the picture. It is the picture, I'll warrant.'

Benevolus stroked his chin: 'You have a fair point, Commander. Mind you, were I Paullinus, I should not even use such an enigmatic phrase. It's just the kind of thing to get the spies pondering and planning, if they got wind of it.'

'Ah, but you miss the point of this evening, Benevolus. We've all been trying to be Paullinus.'

Marcus readily agreed: 'And aside from that, we've been trying to avoid one dreary prospect that lies before us.' He placed his hands flat on the table. 'We've all seen great periods of action. In other words, for months now, we've been spared the usual round of skirmishes, roadworks and fort maintenance. We simply cannot countenance a return to all that and nothing more--however honourable such labours may be. Well, I can't, anyway.'

'No more can we, Tribune,' said Spesis, and Benevolus nodded. 'I agree with Benevolus: if there's anything of the amphibian about Paullinus's new strategy, it would have been wisest not to allude to it at all. But that's his business, and strictly by the way. And, Marcus, I endorse your words too: what is the point of a third land campaign, which would simply be a matter of going over old ground--literally--ground we have already secured?'

Marcus stood up and walked to the door of his headquarters. Night was well advanced now and getting colder by the second; he shivered and pulled his cloak tight around him.

'Something I said, Tribune?' called Spesis in a jocular manner. Marcus turned, laughing:

'Of course not, Spesis. If I can put up with your 'conquest by asphyxiation' theory, surely I'm robust enough for anything. I was just thinking that we could have saved ourselves a lot of brain-stretching tonight. Simply passed round the wine and waited for our next dispatches.'

'Ah, but Paullinus expects that his leaders should hold confabs like this,' said Benevolus. 'That's partly what we're paid for, Marcus. To reflect, to anticipate, to be alert.'

'Paid for?' asked Spesis in mock surprise. 'I thought we did it for the glory of Nero.'

Marcus stared at him; Benevolus gave a theatrical cough: 'You'll have my good engineer rushing across the compound at you, Spesis,' said Marcus, 'however quietly you speak. And I can't guarantee to protect you if his patriotic dander is up.'

'Patriotism for the homeland I have no problem with. The problems arise, Tribune, when--oh, never mind. Another round of this excellent wine, gentlemen, which I have risked my quartermaster's wrath to furnish?'

Further brain-stretching was not required of the trio. Benevolus and Spesis departed the next morning, the latter affecting consternation at the dusty state of Viroconium and insisting that he couldn't possibly entertain guests until the compound had new matting throughout. That same day, however, dispatches arrived which clarified Paullinus's thinking. Gemina and Valeria Victrix would assemble en masse at Viroconium, then set up campaign bases at Mediolanum and Bovium to the north. The fort at Deva would also be on full alert. This time, Paullinus didn't dally with allusions: there would be a concerted push into northern Cambria; further dispatches would be issued at that time.

'So are we on for Mona, sir?' asked Firmus.

'In his wisdom,' replied Marcus, 'Paullinus seems to have decided that, whether he alludes to the island or not, the tribal spies will still assume that it lies in his gaze. At least there's no mention of 'reserved weaponry' in this message. He's withholding all titbits from them, however small.'

'Wish I was a Tribune, sir,' the centurion said with a grin. 'Whole nights drinking wine with your oppose, going round in boozy circles: does Pollens mean this? Will the spies think that?'

'It was clearly most undiplomatic of me to mention that meeting to you and the rest, Firms,' replied Marcus, not without mirth. 'Now, unless you want to find yourself on latrine duty till the gods call you to rest, I'll have no more talk like that.'

Soon there was little time for talk of any kind. The vicinity of Viroconium filled up with lethal spears, burnished shields and organisational problems for Spesis, the last of which he managed with his customary aplomb. Mediolanum and Bovium were garrisoned to the hilt. The route between Deva and northern Cambria saw as much traffic as its counterpart between Viroconium and Glevum. Saturnalia came and went, charged with anticipation. By spring of 59, the Ordovices found themselves hard pressed by the Empire. Gains made in the previous campaigns were systematically consolidated. Only then did the name 'Mona' officially reappear, and only then was Spesis proved right about the meaning of 'reserved weaponry': along the Cambrian coast, from Varis to Canovium, master boat-builders came into their own. There seemed to be little worry about what the natives might assume and how they would respond. The mainland of northern Cambria was secured as it had never been before.

'Grain, you see,' expounded Vectis one evening, taking the air with Tignum, Firmus and the others at the Canovium garrison. 'The Ordovices' prize granary is on Mona. Copper ore, too--fair leaping out of the ground it is.'

'So it'll be like Salinae with paddling, then, yes?' asked Currerus.

'And a touch of prospecting,' added Firmus. 'Here, we can watch him like a hawk this time,' he added, pointing at Vectis. 'Make sure he doesn't make off with bags of the stuff, like he did with that gold.'

'Firmus, for the umpteenth time in umpteen months--'

'I doubt if we'll get any paddling, my friends,' a voice cut in. About to draw himself up to his full height, Vectis suddenly deflated like a pierced balloon. Firmus, at least, found this more rewarding than the effect of his own words. He bent double and held his sides, but his mirth went unregarded as the voice spoke again: 'As for getting to the grain and the ore--well, I'll do my best for you. Once we reach dry land, mind, you're on your own.' Everyone save Firmus turned to the speaker, a master boat-builder attached to the Gemina legion, who had recently arrived at Canovium. Currerus tried to nudge the centurion into silence; Vectis, seeing an opportunity for revenge, sighed loudly and looked at the heavens, as if imploring them to tell him how the likes of Firmus could ever rise beyond the rank of pot-washer.

'We apologise for our hearty centurion, Scapha,' said Tignum, but the boatman brushed the words aside.

'Oh, let him enjoy himself. The Druids won't give him cause for a single smile.'

'No,' said Currerus simply, and in the ensuing silence Firmus's laughter faded away and was succeeded by a self-conscious cough, as of one who suddenly recalls the importance of his position. Slowly, sheepishly, he joined the rest.

'They're the reason Mona has been "the place we do not mention" for so long,' said Vectis. 'If they've got word of what Paullinus intends--'

'Well, they don't need spies on this side of the water,' said Currerus. 'Don't they have powers of divination? You know what I mean? A touch Delphic?'

'A touch diabolical, that I do know,' said Scapha. 'Sacrificing humans without the reason of war--what kind of carry-on is that? I think we've been pretty understanding of the tribes and their cults, but I can't give the nod to cold murder, never in all this world.'

'I'm not sure how much this world interests them,' said Vectis quietly. He had gone a little pale.

'It interests them enough to keep Mona as a stronghold,' said Scapha. 'It interests them enough to make the natives do whatever they want, fair or foul. Foul, mainly.'

At last Firmus entered the debate: 'With respect, Scapha, we should leave all this out. We've heard all about them and we'll see them soon enough. It doesn't do to let our fancies run riot.'

'You talking of fancies, centurion? I'm not. I've seen them already, no further off than you. Furies. Harpies. They could teach Diabolus a trick or two--dozens--and doubtless they will.'

This time the silence fell like a blade on the neck. After a moment or two, a bemused Marcus wandered into it, his head full of a day's discussion with Benevolus at nearby Varis. He looked from face to ashen face: 'Well,' he said, 'if there's a new dispatch I don't know about, tell me now.'

Instantly he regretted his levity, and tried some divination of his own: 'You won't magic them away by talk, gentlemen. Mona is their kingdom. They'll have to be faced.'

End of Chapter IX

Part I - I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII - IX - X - XI - XII - Part II - Part II

Go to top of page

© Worcester City Museums