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Titus Flavius Vespasianus was enjoying a nice afternoon wine after a dalliance with his favorite mistress, a delightful vixen ten years younger than himself and more sexually energetic after her menopause than he had ever been in his prime. She was always eager to please, and their time together took away the pressures and tedium of running a world-spanning empire. She would make him feel like a real man, and had a mind as sharp as a gladius. Their bed-time chats, while basking in the afterglow of a glorious coupling, often helped him see clearly the solutions to imperial problems. His mistress Caenis would then unobtrusively depart after their lunchtime tryst, as she always did, which tipped the advisors and magistrates that the Imperator was now in a good mood to be approached with problems and decisions to be made that were not deemed wise to bring at the morning session. It was also the favorite time for his trusted cronies to visit, as Gaius Licinius Mucianus now did.
The consul entered the chamber next, laden with wax tablets. Vespasian groaned internally, but bid the consul sit by his side. Quintus Petillius did just that, and placed the tablets on the table before them. Vespasian carelessly over the tablets. Then he sighed and tossed them aside.
“What bothers you now, my friend?” asked Gaius Licinius Mucianus, after greeting Cerealis.
Vespasian waved a hand at the discarded tablets while he looked at both his friend and his brother in law. Mucianus, the one true friend he had in Rome, was the man who persuaded him to take on this horrible position. What on Earth had he been thinking? He was happy as the general in command in Judea, fighting and destroying those Jewish rebels. How could he let the governor of Syria- Mucianus, and that of Aegyptus, Tiberius Alexander- talk him into leaving his beloved army to make a grab for the throne? Had he known then what troubles it would bring, he would have told them both to go piss upon the wall. Hades, he did not even like Mucianus then, the arrogant fool.
“The Senate,” Quintus Petillius replied for him. “It is always the same. Titus asks them for advice, as an Imperator should, and they give him quackery and horse manure.”
“I don’t even know why we have a Senate anymore,” Vespasian sighed. “It is not like it has any political power. Tiberius and Caligula saw to that, and Nero finished what they started.”
“You know damned well why you need a Senate,” Cerealis scoffed. “Look back at our own family history.”
“It gives the rich something to do, to make them feel a part of the whole,” Mucianus added. “And thus less likely to use their wealth to finance revolution a la Cataline.”
“I was more thinking of a goal and ancient honor,” Cerealis replied. “But your answer works just as well.”
“The Senators are more interested in promoting themselves than in this empire of ours,” Vespasian sighed. “They bring me these suggestions for the new governors. But they have their heads up their asses. Take for example Valerius Paulinus in Northern Gaul. He has been there for three years, yet the Senate says I should prorogue him for another two.”
“The aediles report good taxes from that provinces, and little problems,” Mucianus replied. “Why should he not be prorogued?”
“You performed excellently in Syria,” Vespasian reminded his friend. “Yet after two years, you were brought home.”
“I left my province to lead an army that put you on the throne,” Mucianus reminded him with a smile.
“I do not like to leave governors in their provinces too long,” Titus Flavius said. “They become like little kings after a while, and that can lead to revolts. Remember Vindex? A Gaul ruling in Gaul, and after five years he turned on Nero. Verginius Rufus and Galba came down on him like a ton of bricks. I have no Verginius Rufus or Galba should one of my governors decide he wanted to be Imperator, thus I must move them around frequently. So Valerius Paulinus does not remain in northern Gaul. He comes back to Rome for a well-deserved ovation in the Senate.”
Cerealis shrugged. “You have a point. And Plinius Secundus? Pull him out of Hispana?”
“Yes, but he is a damned fine governor. Put him in Gallica Belgica, vice Valerius Paulinus. Maybe he can do for the Gauls and Belgae what he did for Hispana.”
Mucianus nodded and amended the tablet to reflect Vespasian’s wishes. Then he took another while Cerealis read.
“Frontinus in Britannia,” Cerealis read aloud. “You are advised to replace him with Cassius Glaucus. Hrmph! Glaucus? I see your point. The Senators are idiots. Frontinus is in the middle of a war- you do not replace a winning general in the middle of a war? How hard was that lesson drilled into our ancestors’ heads?”
“Fabius, Marius, Sulla, Caesar...” Vespasian groaned. “The list goes on. Yet the flunkies in the Senate came up with the bright idea of doing it anyway.”
Cerealis rubbed out the transfer orders. “There. Fixed. Frontinus stays where he is.”
And so it went, province by province, governor by governor, procurator by procurator until the entire provincial administration was set to their collective desire. It was not an easy task, nor one with which all three men agreed on every candidate, but in the end they did agree. Until they came to Germania.
“Ha!” laughed Cerealis. “They want to bring that
cunnus Cordinus Gallicus back to Rome. They finally got one right!”
Vespasianus reached for the tablet, which Cerealis handed to him, and read it over. He closed it shut with a snap and threw it onto the rejected pile. “He stays in Germania Inferior.”
Neither Quintus Cerealis nor Gaius Mucianus could hardly look more surprised.
“Are you serious? The man is a walking disaster! Look at the problems he caused- not endured, caused!- last summer. And the summer before that.”
“He had problems with his legates,” Vespasian said lowly in reply. “They did not support him. They do so now. He will be good there now.”
“He had problems with his legates because he ignored their sound military sense,” Cerealis replied indignantly. “Neither you nor I would follow orders from Rome that conflicted with the local situation. We adjust and adapt, and get our mission accomplished. He did not, and that is why his legates gave him advice- which he then ignored.”
“They did not support him,” Vespasian repeated. “He even tried one for treason when he got back. The lucky bastard got acquitted, but still, it is proof he was betrayed.”
Mucianus snorted. “That’s horseshit and you know it, Titus. If Rome had assigned us guides in Judaea, against the Jews, and those guides led us into a narrow valley- would you go blindly in?”
Vespasian snorted in disgust. “I would send scouts in, at least, and try to avoid such an obvious ambush.”
“As would I,” Mucianus replied. “And as would Quintus here. Yet Cordinus Gallicus did not. He walked into German traps twice. Not once. Twice. And both times his legates bailed him out.”
“I was ambushed once,” Cerealis reminded him. “IX Hispana in Britannia. Once, but never again. Cordinus Gallicus did it twice.”
“So he is a military dunce,” Vespasian conceded. “But he is an excellent administrator. And now that the tribes have been dealt with soundly, he need not go to war again. Let him stay, and build upon what he accomplished.”
“The Germani are very much like the Judaeans,” Mucianus replied. “They will not quit fighting. You know this; I know this. We slaughtered the Jews wholesale in Judaea- your pet Jew Flavius Josephus wrote over a million dead or sold into slavery. And we still have three legions there. That’s in a plot of desert land scarcely larger that Crete.”
He rose and held up the tablet. “This tablet represents Judaea. My chest represents Germania. Do you see the difference in size? Now remember that Germania is a fecund forest, not a desolate desert. The tribes teem there, Titus. It would require the slaughter of millions upon millions and then garrisoning the rest with thirty legions to pacify- and even then you cannot be sure.”
“Your point? I assume there is one.”
“The point is that Germania is and will always remain a border province with a high risk of war. You cannot in good conscience leave in command a man known and proven to be a military dolt.”
“The man helped turn my wayward son into a true man,” Vespasian replied. “He was his advisor in his first term as consul, and shaped him up both politically and socially. He made a true Roman of a drunkard I had thought to discard into obscurity. He deserves the chance to prove he can govern well- outside of war.”
“I totally agree,” Mucianus said. “He can still be a governor- just not in Germania. Or anywhere else where war could break out.”
“He is a smart man,” Vespasian said stubbornly. “He’ll learn. Has learned.”
“Look, Titus,” Cerealis pleaded. “I know you think little of the Germans. Ragged savages easily beaten by Germanicus and all that. But you forget Varus, and the events of these last years. The Batavi revolted. You might not remember them, but they were a small tribe in Germania, one of the smallest and poorest. I went up there with eight legions to crush them.”
“I remember,” Vespasian replied hotly. How dare that curly-headed half-relative take that tone with him!
“Do you remember that those Germani destroyed four legions before he came?”
“Four? Legions?”
“Four,” Cerealis confirmed. “The V Alaudae and XV Primigenia were defeated and driven into their castrum where they were then besieged and eventually slaughtered. And the I Germanica and XVI Gallica were defeated time and again and eventually surrendered- and then fought for the enemy!. In between they beat the IV Macedonica so badly we disbanded it. Out of the entire army of six legions, only the XXII Primigenia remained. Still remains”
“I did not know it was that bad,” the Imperator admitted. He knew it had been bad enough to send a strong force to suppress the revolt, but had not known the savages had destroyed four entire legions.
“Oh, it was worse than that,” Cerealis continued. “There were another four legions- a consular army- of privately-raised auxilia that were equipped and trained in the legionary manner. These four auxiliary legions were also destroyed.”
“Ouch.”
“Ouch indeed,” Mucianus echoed. “Those are the kinds of Germans you are so easily dismissing as being able to be kept in their place by the likes of Cordinus Gallicus. Now, you do know where Germania is, do you not?”
Vespasian shook a finger at his friend. “Do not insult me, Gaius!”
“I am not trying to insult you, my friend. I am trying to open your eyes to the dangers your crony can put you in. The Rhenus separates our Germanias from Germania Magna. Our Germanias protects Gaul- luscious, fertile, damned near defenseless Gaul. Should we lose the Rhenus- like almost happened this summer- the hordes of Germania Magna could come storming into luscious, fertile, defenseless Gaul. With Gaul gone, Britannia is isolated and we are cut off from Hispana and her mineral wealth.”
“The empire sundered...” Vespasian saw. Holding Gaul was key, and the key to holding Gaul was keeping the Rhenus barrier intact. If , of course.. “This scenario you describe could only come about if the Germani move as one, as a union. They are disparate tribes. They cannot unite.”
“They already have,” Mucianus pointed out. He searched the Imperator’s correspondence to produce a scroll from Cordinus Gallicus. “Here. He was trapped across the river while fighting the Bructeri, a minor tribe that has always been a pain in our ass. Among those penning him were Cherusci, Usipi, Chauci, Tencteri, Marsi, Chatti, and Suevi. Different tribes, all of them. It was the departure of the Chatti and Suevi to fight him that allowed Cornelius Clemens to capture the Agri Decumates so bloodlessly. Remember? That was your plan, Titus. To have the tribes move north- to unite for war.”
Vespasian allowed a moment of pride to show, before it was replaced by horror. He had counted on the Germans helping each other and thus helping him. Now he saw what could happen if those tribes remained united against Rome. A German flood surging against the Rhenus and beyond, isolating Rome. What was it Mucianus just said about those fecund forests? Millions upon millions of them.
Rome was doomed.
It showed on his face.
Mucianus nodded sagaciously. He had gotten through. “That is why you cannot allow a cunnus like Cordinus Gallicus Gallicus to remain in a border province. You need generals there. Tough ones.”
Vespasian agreed. “You are right. Unfortunately, I have little choice in generals. Ulpius Traianus is the only one I can think of left, and we are sending him to Syria.”
“You could bring Verginius Rufus out of retirement,” Cerealis offered. “Or even one of the Vitellians. I heard Clemens asked for Aulus Caecina by name- as quaestor. Caecina is a wolf, but was a damned fine generalis before he got involved in politics, and has been seen with Eprius, your fervent supporter, and others who favor your rule. He knows the province, too. He might be reformed, and usable. We know he is available.”
“He is reformed,” Mucianus agreed. “I’ve spoken with him a time or two, as have both of your sons. Pomponia swears by the man as well.”
Vespasian shook his head. “The man is a snake,” he barked. “Never trust a snake. What about Antonius Primus?”
“That beast hasn’t raised his head out of an amphora of wine since he cut off the head of Vitellius,” Mucianus snorted. “He’s a good general, but a beast. I’d rather you promoted Vipsanius Messala- the guy who gave Primus his victory at Bedriacum. He knows the territory as well.”
“Too young,” Vespasian said with a shake of his head.
“Then we are back to Caecina,” Mucianus said.
“No,” Vespasian said. “He did well enough making Vitellius Imperator at the First Battle of Bedriacum. But then he switched sides on the eve of the second. His own soldiers locked him up!”
“He switched to our side, Titus,” Mucianus said. “He saw the Flavian light. And his jailing deprived them of a general who could have beaten Primus.”
“He deserted the emperor he himself made,” snapped Vespasian. “He is going nowhere near any military command until I am damned sure he won’t do to me what he did to Vitellius. My reign is still fragile, old friend. Let him prove himself, then maybe I will consider him for a non-military political office. Until then, the man does not go anywhere!”
“Then send me,” Mucianus said. He threw his hands in the air. “It cannot be said I am too young, nor do I have anything other than total loyalty to my Imperator and friend. And none can say I am no general.”
Vespasian sat up sharply. “You would go to Germania?”
“If there were none left, I would have to.”
Vespasian saw no deception or recrimination in his friend’s eyes. He nodded. “Cut the orders, Quintus. Gaius will be going to Germania.”
Cerealis corrected the faulty orders. “There. Fixed. Gaius heads north.”
“And Cordinus Gallicus goes to Gallia Lugdunensis,” the Imperator decreed. “A peaceful province, but rich. He can make his fortune there, and with you on the border behind him, he can do it safely.”
Mucianus stood to withdraw. He had a lot of packing to do. Cerealis, his business here concluded, joined him.
Vespasian watched his old friends depart, then sat back and smiled. From under another stack of tablets he drew forth the recommendations for the governors of the coming year as decided by his closest advisors. Almost all matched what he, Quintus, and Mucianus had decided. The few that were different he set out onto the heating vent, and replaced them with the choices just decided. There were very few, but the one concerning Cordinus Gallicus was one of them.
He leaned back as the wax on the erroneous tablets melted back into clear plates. A test of loyalty and brains, and Mucianus passed with flying colors. He will make an excellent governor of Germania, just as I intended. It is a shame, though, that he thinks now so poorly of me concerning the Germani, but it is a small price for me to pay. And he too will pay a price. The old philanderer will have very few senatorial wives to rut with up there. Two birds with a single stone.
Nicely done, Titus Flavius Vespasianus, he thought to himself. Very nicely done indeed.
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