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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2017
Copyright © Harry Sidebottom 2017
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Harry Sidebottom asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
This short story is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it, while at times based on historical events and figures, is the work of the author’s imagination.
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Ebook Edition © April 2017 ISBN: 9780008248369
Version: 2017-03-23
Table of Contents
The Legionary Fortress of Castra Regina on the Danube
The Day before the Kalends of January AD236
‘Money! We must have more money!’ The great white face of the Emperor Maximinus Thrax gazed down from the throne. The frightful grey eyes looked at each of the three Senators in turn.
‘The barbarians have overrun the Province of Dacia. The Governor is besieged in Sarmizegetuza. If the town falls, the Province is lost. We will have to march through the winter. Half the men have no boots, the others are lacking weapons and armour. The recruits need to be equipped and trained before the thaw. It all costs money.’
None of the three councillors in the small chamber spoke.
‘The rich live in luxury, sleep safely, because we campaign and fight on the frontiers. They waste their time with catamites and philosophers, indulge themselves with unspeakable vices. Not one of them understands duty, or makes any sacrifice for the safety of the empire. Order them to make a contribution. The gods know, they can afford it.’
Again the grey eyes swept over them. It was a dreadful idea, but Honoratus was not inclined to venture an opinion. The Emperor did not care for any obstruction, and already in these first ten months of his reign his terrible rages had become legendary.
‘Increase the taxes on the extravagances it seems civilians cannot live without. Silks, spices, gems – raise the duty on goods crossing the eastern frontiers. Put up the tax on the sale of slaves. Introduce a levy on cook shops. Let the idle plebs learn to cook their own porridge like a soldier.’
Incense-laden smoke from the sacred fire on the small altar drifted up to the ceiling. There were hangings over the windows, and other braziers burning. The room was still cold. Outside the river was frozen.
Vopiscus cleared his throat, and fingered something hidden under the neck of his tunic. ‘My Lord …’
‘Don’t My Lord me! Give me an answer!’
Vopiscus gripped the concealed amulet.
Honoratus wondered if the superstitious fool really thought no one knew that, like a child, he wore a small gold representation of a phallus to ward off evil.
‘I said before the full imperial council that such measures would cause widespread unrest.’
‘And I said before, Who cares about a few civilians? What can they achieve?’
A certain colour was coming into the face of Maximinus. It was not a good sign.
‘In the long term nothing, Emperor. But any revolt, even the most ephemeral and doomed, must be crushed. It might demand your presence. As you most wisely say we must clear the barbarians from Dacia, and then return to campaigning against the Germans next summer.’
Vopiscus might be superstitious, but he was far from a fool. Perhaps, Honoratus thought, it was the amulets and oracles that gave him the courage to stand up to Maximinus. Certainly it took nerve to contradict the Emperor.
Maximinus frowned. ‘Then we must explore new options. All the towns in the empire raise their own local taxes. What the town councillors do not steal, they squander on fripperies like baths and porticos and theatre shows. We take these revenues for the military treasury.’
Now
