(Verulamium, Britannia [modern St. Albans, Hertfordshire, England], over 1 month later, December DCCCV A.V.C. [52 AD])

We had chosen to make our attempts at contact with King Arviragus and the other important elements of the Catuvellauni leadership from Verulamium because the township was more conveniently located for the purpose than Camulodunum. The fortified settlement was more centrally situated, not far to the northwest of Londinium on important trading routes to the further north and west, compared with the rather isolated easterly provincial capital, in the more amenable surrounds of which we had left the new Governor, Aulus Didius Gallus.

The location of the current Catuvellauni leadership under Arviragus was not precisely known. However, the likelihood was that they had taken refuge amongst some of the tribes of the far west, which remained resistant to Roman occupation, such as the Silures or Ordovices.

Using financial resources provided to us by the provincial Procurator, we bribed merchants venturing to the north and west to pass sealed scrolled invites to parley on to the Catuvellauni leadership should they be encountered somewhere. There was also a substantial incentive in the form of a promise of further significant monetary reward if any trader could prove that they had been successful in establishing contact. However, the interminable wait in boring Verulamium continued amongst miserable chilly and rainy weather, as autumn gave way to winter.

In fact, so much rain fell from the heavens over several days that the River Ver overflowed its banks and there was localised flooding, including in parts of Verulamium. Venturing out of our awful deversorium therefore became challenging if not positively damp and mucky. There were also signs that colder frosty and perhaps snowy weather was imminent. Consequently, even inveterate tourists like Gaius and Agricola became rather homesick for the generally pleasanter climes of Italia. The thought of spending the impending annual December festival of Saturnalia in such awful circumstances was also very depressing.

Naturally, as a proud Britannian, I did attempt to defend the currently prevailing local weather. I pointed out that the dirty River Tiber was known to flood regularly too, inundating parts of Rome not only with water but also sewerage and other unpleasant detritus. I additionally declared in jest, between my own snivels induced by my lingering cold and whilst displaying a mischievous smirk, that I believed that I could recall enjoying the odd nice warm dry summer day during my boyhood in my homeland.

"I think that you must have been dreaming," Gaius retorted, albeit in good humour. He then glanced at my nose, which had reddened as a result of much blowing with a rag.

"Did you know, Bicilus," Gaius subsequently added, "that you look even cuter with a red nose!" My nostrils blew loudly into my rag in response.

(Castra Vetera, Germania Inferior [modern Birten near Xanten, Germany], same time)

Pliny was now beginning to panic. Well over a month had passed since Axenius had ventured alone into the dangerous and now snowy forests east of the Rhenus and he had not re-emerged.

Axenius had estimated that his mission should only take a few weeks before he returned to Castra Vetera but that time had now elapsed and there was still no sign of him. Pliny had become so anxious that he was beginning to neglect his military duties and writings, preferring instead to spend long hours on the fortress battlements or on the local riverbank watching out for people crossing the Rhenus.

Pliny’s eyes regularly became damp when he was invariably forced to acknowledge that the latest travellers to be ferried across the Rhenus did not include Axenius and that no-one had heard of his fate. Tears often truly flowed when he finally gave up his efforts for the day and returned to his quarters during the night darkness to attempt to sleep, which was invariably fitful and invaded by horrific nightmares about what might have happened to his beloved eunuch lover.

Pliny had originally dismissed his dreadful feelings of foreboding, initially experienced not long after Axenius had departed. He had fooled himself into believing that such thoughts were only needless worrying. However, he was now sure that the mental portents did indeed mean that something appalling had happened to his younger lover. Unfortunately, he also realised that he could realistically do little about the dreadful situation.

Seeking Axenius alone would surely be fatally foolhardy, as the tribes east of the Rhenus would undoubtedly easily detect and capture him and then enjoy slowly killing a senior Roman army officer in an especially excruciating manner. Going with a military escort was unfeasible, as his snooty superiors would not be inclined to sanction an expedition to seek out someone who might now be a rich freedman back in Rome but who was, in their biased minds, still a mere barbarian eunuch, and obviously a silly one. Being accompanied by soldiers would also entail seriously endangering them. If hostile Germanians could annihilate three legions, they could readily trap and destroy a small search party. Anyway, trying to find a missing person in the forested vastness on the other side of the mighty river would be like, as the Roman saying goes, looking for a needle in a haystack.

The thought of his inability to take any realistic action to seek Axenius both intensely saddened and infuriated Pliny. Such acute emotions can easily lead to mad actions.

(Verulamium, Britannia [modern St. Albans, Hertfordshire, England], same time)

"You’re Bicilus?" the cloaked but still thoroughly drenched military courier from Camulodunum asked in clear surprise, as raindrops dripped from his helmet and sodden uniform. "Yes," I replied simply.

Raising his eyebrows in a continued display of surprise that apparently a mere slaveboy could be the Bicilus to whom he was to hand over his message, the courier nevertheless gave me his scroll, saluted and then departed the deversorium without further ado. His action indicated that he was apparently not anticipating having to carry a reply from me back to the provincial capital.

The background to the courier’s attitude about not expecting a reply then became immediately apparent to me. The seal on the scrolled message was not gubernatorial but instead Imperial, and I recognised the Latin handwriting.

Despite increasingly troublesome eyesight, Claudius still performed much of his own writing in preference to using scribes, particularly if he considered what he was inscribing to be confidential or important. The bold neat Latin manuscript of my message was clearly that of the Emperor and I was immediately flattered at the honour.

I was not alone in reading Claudius’ message, as looking over my shoulder were Gaius and Agricola, whilst Hylas more reverently refrained, tutting at their nosiness. However, I forgave the understandably curious pair, as receipt of the Imperial communication had been our most interesting experience for a month, if you ignore what my beloved and I regularly indulged in bed at night.

There was some initial disappointment that Claudius’ message was not of significance, either in respect of my endeavours in Britannia or events back in Rome. The Emperor had simply kindly taken the trouble to write to express again his thanks to me for embarking on my mission and to repeat his best wishes for the success of my undertaking.

Additional news of Rome was confined to trivia. This aspect of the message reminded me of many of the late-night conversations I had enjoyed with Claudius, and also stimulated Gaius into genially suggesting, probably correctly, "The Emperor’s missing your chats, dear boy!"

The Festival of Bona Dea, or the ‘Good Goddess’, featured prominently amongst the trivia. This event is celebrated to increase women’s fertility at the beginning of December and at night in the official dwelling of the Pontifex Maximus, whose doors are well guarded for the occasion by slaves. Men are excluded and anything depicting masculinity, such as paintings or statues, is veiled within the deliberately dimly lit interior, full of incense burners, coffers containing curative herbs and esoteric objects from the exotic east, escpecially phallic symbols.

The rituals are generally orchestrated by the mistress of the dwelling, who is usually the Pontifex Maximus’ wife or mother. Only high-class married women and the Vestal Virgins are invited and the latter leave at midnight, which is an action that is rumoured to be a precursor to much lesbian debauchery, involving nudity and use of the phallic devices.

Claudius advised in his message that the Empress Agrippina had spent the whole night celebrating the Festival of Bona Dea in the residence of the Pontifex Maximus. I was somehow not surprised.

I also acquired the notion that the lascivious Agrippina and not the official hostess would have organised most of the inherent lesbian carnality.

(Imperial palace, Palatine Hill, Rome, Dies Veneris, AD XVIII Kal. Ian. DCCCVI AVC [Friday, 15^th December 52 AD])

"I don’t like the fact that my birthday always falls close to the opening day of the annual Saturnalia festival," the newly 14 year-old Nero advised Suffuscus. "Why not?" asked the latter.

"Because," Nero began to answer, as he and his best friend waited to greet formally the other guests at the prince’s birthday celebration, "I’m sure I’d receive more presents if the two events did not coincide so closely!" The popular and joyous Saturnalia festival, beginning in two days in honour of the god, Saturn, customarily involves the exchange of gifts, especially small pottery dolls, or ‘sigillaria’, for the children and candles, or ‘cerei’, for adults. The occasion is also noted for much visiting and merry feasting and play, including role reversals whereby slaves can wear the clothing of their masters and be served meals by them. Gambling in public places was additionally legalised.

"Don’t be so greedy," Suffuscus suggested smilingly to Nero, whose real dislike for the timing of his birthday actually did not stem from a reduction in presents. The prince’s unhappiness instead emanated from the jealous impression hidden in his mind that the impending Saturnalia, which had effectively already begun with celebrations of minor festivals, tended to distract people from giving due honour to his own anniversary.

Probably because of an earlier rather lonely boyhood without real friends, serious pretentiousness was an inherent, albeit, as a result of Suffuscus’ currently moderating influence, presently subdued, element of Nero’s adolescent character.

(Domus of Axenius, Quirinal Hill, Rome, 2 days later, Dies Solis, AD XVI Kal. Ian. DCCCVI AVC [Sunday, 17^th December 52 AD])

‘Time shall not destroy that holy day, so long as the hills of Latium endure and Father Tiber, while your city of Rome and the Capitol remain!"

When Rome was a republic, the Saturnalia had lasted for a week from the 16^th day before the Kalends of Ianuarius. Augustus later attempted to restrict the festival to three days. However, Gaius Caligula subsequently increased the length to five days and anyway many people still celebrate for the traditional period, namely until the winter solstice in Julius Caesar’s calendar of the 25^th day of December.

As my contemporary, the agronomist, Columella, suggested, farmers should complete their planting of crops by the beginning of December. Consequently, it appears appropriate to revere Saturn, god of seeds and sowing, shortly afterwards in order to ensure a bountiful harvest during the following year and therefore appropriately much ritual is at this time conducted in the deity’s temple in Rome. However, the Saturnalia is most noted and welcomed for the enjoyable happenings occurring in most homes, or at least those belonging to people who can afford to gain pleasure from the festival in some way.

"They’re going to ruin my kitchen," moaned Axenius’ main cook, or ‘coquus’, as he lay on a couch chewing a nevertheless rather palatable main course of roast beef and vegetables in his absent master’s luxurious dining-room, or ‘triclinium’, which was, like the diners, decorated with wreaths of holly and mistletoe. "Oh, stop complaining," the door porter, or ‘ianitor’, suggested to his fellow slave from a nearby divan, whilst eating some venison, "and instead I command you just to enjoy the occasion!"

Door porters in Rome have a reputation for being cantankerous and lazy, apparently being specifically allocated their positions to deter unwelcome visitors through their inherent nature by greeting them sourly or being entirely absent from their posts so that entrance to the dwellings is impossible. However, the slave recruited by Palaemon and inherited by Axenius was always affable and active, whilst simultaneously expert at unoffensively turning away undesirable arrivals at the entrance, or ‘vestibulum’, of his master’s opulent house.

The door porter’s popularity within Axenius’ household was such that he had been elected the ‘Saturnalicius Princeps’, or Master of the Saturnalia. Even the senior servant, namely the steward or ‘promus’, had selflessly voted for him.

The Saturnalicius Princeps, commonly nicknamed ‘Lord of Misrule’, is free to order others to do his bidding. The door porter’s command to the cook therefore had to be obeyed, with the latter finally compliantly settling down to forget about his beloved kitchen and instead thoroughly enjoy himself rather unfairly by complaining about the quality of the food being served.

Like the other slaves of the household, the door porter and cook could undoubtedly look forward to being freed someday, either to gain salaried positions within Axenius’ household or educational empire or to use their own savings to begin their own businesses. Their current existences, working for a kind and considerate master, was rather pleasant and I favoured that they were likely to opt to continue to work for their present master.

No-one in Rome yet knew of Axenius’ apparent disappearance. His return was not overdue and, not wanting to worry people needlessly, Pliny had not yet sent a message reporting the disturbing situation in Germania.

"More wine!" the door porter next requested, after admonishing the cook and whilst holding up his empty silver goblet, which was immediately obediently filled by his owner’s young brother, Anacletus, who just beat Axenius’ eager adopted son, Arius, to fulfil the chore. Achilleus and Tyanus then arrived with the next elements of the main course to help fill the bellies of the nine slaves whose turn it was to be fed by the current temporary masters of the household, namely Cornutus and Servius.

Meanwhile, in the large kitchen, or ‘culina’, the temporary cooks were struggling with the many various culinary implements, which were currently preparing food by boiling, roasting or frying. "I can smell burning!" a suddenly alarmed Cornutus shouted to the similarly harassed Servius, whose exasperated voice answered in reply "I can too but I can’t find the source!" Anacletus’ equally flustered twin sister, who was attempting to help, could not solve the problem either.

Gaius’ amused pregnant slave, Selene, therefore made a comment from nearby, where she was sitting to observe the funny spectacle with her de-facto young husband, Endymion. Their help had been politely declined by Cornutus and Servius, whom the door porter had jokingly commanded to perform the cooking as well as organise the serving of the food.

Selene and Endymion had therefore instead decided to observe the temporary coqui at work whilst they awaited their own turn to dine. As well as watching the hilarious action in the culina, they were also enjoying some sweetmeat snacks and wine.

Cornutus and Servius had appreciated that the ianitor, in his role of ‘Lord of Misrule’, had only been joking about cooking but they had decided to return the jest by, to everyone’s amazement, if not trepidation, actually assuming the challenge. Neither was previously known for culinary talent but both were determined to succeed without the assistance of any of the household servants. Help would only be sought from the child wards pertaining to Axenius and Gaius currently resident in the household, namely Anacletus, Axenia, Arius, Achilleus and Tyanus, who were also rather relishing playing their roles.

As a boy, Servius had in fact often assisted his talented mother in his late parent’s farmhouse kitchen and had managed to remember much about cooking. Consequently, after a lot of preplanning between the pair, he took the lead, whilst Cornutus acted as his menial assistant. However, after a successful start, the shear extent of the typical Roman banquet for nearly thirty slaves in three separate but closely timed sittings, each comprising the customary nine guests on three couches, which they were attempting to prepare, was beginning to overwhelm them.

"I think," Selene commented, whilst observing the smoke rise from an oven and simultaneously trying to stifle a giggle, "that you should scrub the roast partridge off the menu for this sitting!"

(Domus of Petronius, Quirinal Hill, Rome, same time)

In Petronius’ nearby domus, the ‘elegentiae arbiter’ was not cooking but he was serving his slaves, who were a lot less in number than those of Axenius, their dinner to much accompanying merriment. A significant proportion of the inherent laughter resulted from the fact that he was currently looking anything but elegant.

Young Giton had been elected ‘Lord of Mischief’ and he had commanded his master to dress in a certain way. Petronius was really only obligated to serve food to his slaves but he decided to obey the order of the youngest of them in order to enter more fully into the merry spirit of Saturnalia, helped to do so by consuming several goblets of courage-fortifying wine.

As the elegentiae arbiter had declined to abdicate his other arbitration role of ‘arbiter bibendi’, or ‘judge of drink’, namely the honoured person who decides how much water to add to wine at a dinner, his beverage was undiluted. Petronius believed that such alcoholic fortification for his mettle was necessary in order to comply with Giton’s mischievous command.

"I’ll have my revenge for this," Petronius threatened, amidst serving his slaves the various courses of their dinner and whilst addressing his young eunuchs, Giton and Encolpius, in particular, "by making the eponymous personalities in my latest satire figures of fun. Just think, your names will forever be associated with ridiculous comedy characters!"

"It’ll be a worthwhile price to pay for the enjoyment of this moment," Encolpius laughed. However, he also then quietly sadly thought that his beloved master’s satires, although good and popular, were probably too associated with contemporary Rome to be long remembered after their time in this world.

(Verulamium, Britannia [modern St. Albans, Hertfordshire, England], same time)

A merchant had just left the poor quality deversorium in which Gaius, Hylas and Agricola and me were currently sheltering from the awful weather outside. The trader had to my satisfaction proved that the written scrolled message he had brought me was from Arviragus and so he had departed richer than when he arrived.

Caratacus’ successor as King of the Catuvellauni had written in excellent Latin, or probably his scribe had on his behalf, agreeing to parley with the new Governor of Britannia. Arviragus suggested a meeting at a hamlet near the Roman fortress of Glevum [modern Gloucester, England], which was to the west of Verulamium on the border between the tribal lands of the Dobunni and Silures.

Arviragus suggested that the meeting should take place at noon on the eve of the Roman New Year, with, as a sign of good faith, both him and Aulus Didius Gallus only accompanied by small escorts. He added temptingly that, if settlement was reached, DCCCVI A.V.C. could thereby begin with peace between Rome and the Catuvellauni and their tribal allies.

Gauis, Hylas, Agricola and I immediately hired a carpentum and driver and, attired in our warmest clothing, set out along the snow-covered road to Glevum, whilst despatching a military courier to Camulodunum to report the news to Aulus Didius Gallus. We were rather glad to be leaving Verulamium, where the beginning of the Saturnalia celebrations were sadly rather subdued, in line with the prevailing mood induced by the sombre surrounds and terrible weather. However, we were not particularly optimistic that our new destination would offer any better atmosphere.

On leaving, Agricola expressed the hope that, if he ever returned to Verulamium, the fortress would be more bearable. I joked that, if he ever did have the misfortune to go back sometime, perhaps he might care to oversee all of the necessary improvements himself. "Perhaps I shall," the boy retorted, "if only to ensure that no other poor soul has to endure a long visit to such an inhospitable place!"

As we proceeded along the road to the west, Hylas became excited. He appreciated that the country that we were to pass through on our way to Glevum belonged to his tribe, the Dobunni, who were largely pacified, although some elements hostile to the Romans had joined the renegade Catuvellauni. Gaius’ young slave could remember very little of his early boyhood in Britannia because he had been captured and taken to Rome, enslavement and castration when he had only been a 4 year-old infant.

Nevertheless, one image that did haunt the now 10 year-old Hylas’ mind was that of his father, whom he had last seen departing in his chariot to combat the Romans, which proved a disastrous fight from which the brave warrior had never returned.

(Corinium Dobunnorum, Britannia [modern Cirencester, Gloucestershire, England], a few days later)

The new road that took us west from Verulamium to Glevum passed through another major Roman fortress, namely that of Corinium Dobunnorum, where we stayed overnight. The inclusion of a reference to Hylas’ people in the place-name is an indication that the site used to be the location of the tribal capital.

Current importance, however, was as much to do with the fact that the fortress was situated at the intersection of five important roads. The auxiliary cavalry troop, Indus’ Wing of Gauls, or ‘Ala Gallorum Indiana’, named after a former commander, Julius Indus, and stationed locally to guard this strategic position, were horsemen of the Raurici tribe from Germania Superior [their own capital of Augusta Raurica is the modern Augst on the Rhine in northern Switzerland].

The presence of auxiliaries in Corinium, whose homeland was on the Rhenus, made me think again of Axenius, about whose welfare on his return to Germania I remained concerned. I could not explain the reasons for my worry to my companions, other than to say that it emanated from my very soul.

(Glevum, Britannia [modern Gloucester, Gloucestershire, England], next day)

The large Roman fortress of Glevum had been built on the eastern floodplain of the Sabrina Fluvius [modern River Severn] to accommodate the 20^th Legion. This ‘Legio XX Valeria’ had originally been situated at Camulodunum but had been relocated three years prior to our arrival, leaving behind many retiring veterans to settle in the new ‘colonia’.

The loss of the veterans to retirement in Camulodunum meant that the legion was significantly under-strength and so the fortress at Glevum had originally only been sized to accommodate a vexallation. However, by the time of our arrival, new recruits plus elements from the 2^nd Legion, or ‘Legio II Augusta’, meant that the fortification was expanding rapidly.

The main purpose of the fortress was to keep the potentially volatile Dumnonii to the southwest [in modern Devon and Cornwall] tamed and the perpetually troublesome Silures to the west [in modern south Wales] subdued, whilst protecting the pacified hinterland of southeast Britannia. As such, the fortification represented one of the important elements of the frontline with these tribes.

Consequently, given that the theory about Arviragus having possibly taken refuge amongst the Silures had been proven correct by the source of the King’s message agreeing to parley, the area near Glevum did appear to be a logical environs for the proposed meeting. Both sides would be close to mutual strongholds in case anything went wrong in the imminent negotiations.

The presence of so many more soldiers at Glevum, plus the fact that most were genuinely Roman, or at least Italian, compared with the foreign auxiliaries that largely comprised the garrisons at Corinium and Verulamium, made the settlement more vibrant and Latin in spirit. The need to cater for a bigger military presence had also attracted more merchants and entrepreneurs and so there was a larger choice of deversoria for me and my small entourage to choose from to house us whilst we awaited the arrival of Aulus Didius Gallus.

Consequently, we were able both to select decent civilian lodgings with the help of my Imperial warrant, now exclusively waved by Gaius, and thoroughly to enjoy the remnants of Saturnalia. In honour of the fact that we were in Dobunni territory, Hylas was unanimously appointed our ‘Lord of Mischief’. However, I shall spare you, dear patient reader of my long autobiography, full details of what the mischievous boy happily commanded of Gaius, Agricola and me during the remaining days of the festival.

Suffice to say that Gaius and I were happy to consume plentiful wine before we made fools of ourselves. Agricola enjoyed no such compensation but was nevertheless young enough to enter into the spirit of events without the sort of embarrassed reluctance that might inflict sober adults.

For the sake of Agricola’s subsequent reputation, the boy was also happily currently too young to be recognised much later in adulthood for his Saturnalia adventures in this year by soldier witnesses who would someday have cause to know him much better.

(Glevum, Britannia [modern Gloucester, Gloucestershire, England], another few days later, Dies Lunae, AD VIII Kal. Ian. DCCCVI A.V.C. [Monday, 25^th December 52 AD])

Having enjoyed a sumptuous late dinner on the previous evening, Gaius and I were lying well insulated under blankets in each other’s warm arms in the early morning, according to Julius Caesar’s calendar, of the winter solstice. My beloved was obviously in a frisky mood because he embarked on one of his seduction techniques, namely reciting poetry, in this case misquoting Catullus.

"Your blue eyes, Bicilus,

If you would let one kiss,

Three hundred thousand would to us

Seem nothing much amiss.

Could all earth’s ears of corn eclipse

That heavenly harvest of the lips?"

"I believe Catullus described ‘honeyed’ eyes not ‘blue’ and referred to his own boy love, ‘Juventius’, and not ‘Bicilus’," I retorted. I was not only playing hard-to-get but also demonstrating that Gaius’ informal education of me in many matters, including Latin poetry, had not been wasted. To bolster my defences, I even added a couple of lines from the same poet, who in them had been admonishing someone called Aurelius, a rival for his young male beloved’s affections.

"It’s you I fear, you and that penis of yours

Trying to turn boys, good or bad, into whores!"

Naturally, neither my poetic oratory nor my display of apparent disinterest worked in defending me from molestation. A gentle finger probing my sphincter instead persuaded me to surrender and succumb to the victor’s ravishment without further words from either of us.

"I’m glad Saturnalia’s finished," I later fibbed to Gaius after making love. "I don’t know how many more times I could have cleansed my body with snow instead of oil, according to Hylas’ wicked commands as ‘Lord of Mischief’," I added.

I then asked, with the mischief in my own mind clearly displayed on my grinning face, which was no longer adorned with a red nose because my cold had gone, despite Hylas’ literally chilling orders, "Can I be ‘Saturnalicius Princeps’ next year?" "Only if you’re elected to the role democratically in a free vote!" Gaius answered.

"I’m not a democrat," I protested, "as I’m a loyal Imperial servant. Consequently, on just this one occasion and as a special favour, can’t I tempt you away from your republican persuasions?"

"N….n…." Gaius attempted to answer negatively until my wandering fingers and lips rejuvenised his libido and encouraged him to reply otherwise. "I s….s….suppose a l….l….little o….o….occasional d….d….despotism m….m….mightn’t be t….t….too h….h….harmful," he then stuttered in the manner of the Emperor Claudius.

"You’re beginning to sound more like my Imperial owner every day," I then giggled, whilst my lips gratefully reached for those belonging to the true master of my ultimate affections and my fingers continued their highly intimate explorations.

(Glevum, Britannia [modern Gloucester, Gloucestershire, England], 6 days later, Dies Saturni, AD III Kal. Ian. DCCCVI A.V.C. [Saturday, 30th December 52 AD])

Just as I was beginning to fret that Aulus Didius Gallus would not arrive from Camulodunum in time for the parley with the Catuvellauni, the new Governor finally reached Glevum at dusk on the penultimate day of the year. The reason for the gubernatorial tardiness was left unsaid but certainly the comfortable but slow raeda that had transported him alongside his cavalry escort was partially at fault.

I subsequently briefed Aulus Didius Gallus more fully about the message from Arviragus and own my perspective on the matter. The venue for our meeting was the rather opulent residence of the fortress commander.

Although I was talking about my own tribe, the Catuvellauni, whom I knew were a basically honourable people, I advised caution because I also appreciated that some of their leaders occasionally possessed lesser reputations. I suggested that there would certainly have been no problems if the invitation to parley had emanated from Caratacus. However, Arviragus and his lieutenants were an unknown quantity in such a situation.

I had even sought the advice of the exiled Caratacus back in Rome about Arviragus’ nature and trustworthiness. The former King answered that his cousin did have serious faults, including occasional rashness and vindictiveness, plus poor quality advisors.

I advised Aulus Didius Gallus that, given this view of Arviragus and the nature of Caratacus’ own capture through treachery, the current King might consider such betrayal acceptable to replicate. I therefore recommended that steps should be taken to ensure that we were not falling into a trap by agreeing to parley without significant protection. I suggested that this aim could be achieved by sending out small groups of expert auxiliary scouts to survey secretly the terrain around the proposed venue in order to verify that there would be no trickery. However, the Governor rejected my proposal.

I never did discover whether Aulus Didius Gallus chose to disregard my advice simply because he disliked me. He might instead have genuinely believed that I was being unnecessarily over-cautious and dangerous to the fulfilment of the Emperor’s commission regarding achieving peace with the Catuvellauni. He might really have felt, as he told me, that the process could be sabotaged if the furtive activities of the scouts were discovered by my tribe.

I politely but firmly protested to no avail that the Catuvellauni would not detect small bands of expert auxiliary scouts, well accustomed to camouflage techniques and also now Britannia, if my tribe was coming to parley only in small numbers. Discovery would surely only happen if my people chose to arrive in treacherous strength.

"The Proconsul’s an idiot!" Gaius remarked after I had reported the results of my meeting with Aulus Didius Gallus back to him. My clever beloved had naturally helped me to formulate the rejected recommendations that I had made to the new Governor of my homeland.

"I just hope that he’s right and we’re wrong!" I replied, whilst referring to what I now considered a highly dangerous rendezvous with the leadership of my tribe, the Catuvellauni, on the next day, which was the eve of the New Year. As I was scheduled to accompany Aulus Didius Gallus to the parley meeting, I actually then momentarily wondered whether I would still be alive to experience any of DCCCVI A.V.C.. However, my mind was subsequently quickly diverted by a vehement argument, unusually with Gaius, Hylas and Agricola.

All three of my companions were insisting on accompanying me to the parley and I was resisting their entreaty.

(Jerusalem, Roman Province of Judaea, same time)

‘The family from which I am derived is not an ignoble one, but has descended all along from the priests; and as nobility among several people is of a different origin, so with us to be of the sacerdotal dignity is an indication of the splendour of a family.’

At the other side of the Roman Empire in faraway Judaea, a very pretty 14 year-old Jewish boy, whose name in Hebrew was Yosef Ben-Matityahu, would not soon be witnessing the arrival of the New Year, or ‘Rosh Hashanah’, pertaining to his own religious calendar. For him, the year 3813 had begun about three months previously.

Yosef was currently listening to his father, Matthias. His parent was talking to a friend, berating the new Governor of Judaea, Marcus Antonius Felix.

Because Judaea is small and relatively inconsequential, the province does not justify a Governor of Proconsul rank. Marcus Antonius Felix was instead a Procurator, who would be the chief financial officer in more important territories.

Nevertheless, Marcus Antonius Felix had influence at the Imperial court, which was why he had just gained the provincial appointment. He was the brother of one of Emperor Claudius’ most influential and wealthy freedmen, Pallas, who, as previously described, was responsible for state finances and also a supporter and secret lover of the Empress Agrippina.

Yosef’s father was accusing the new Governor of being both a lecherous seducer of Jewish princesses and a tyrannical ruler of the Jewish people. The boy quietly listened to the conversation in his customary unintrusive manner and would later record his parent’s accusations in a ledger that he had started to keep.

Young, bright and well-educated Yosef rather fancied becoming a writer, a recorder of the past and current troubled times experienced by his people. The boy, of course, did not know at the time but, in faraway Rome, there were people, a son and a father, who someday would considerably help him to achieve his aim.

(Pomegranate Street, Subura Quarter, Rome, next day, Dies Solis, Prid. Kal. Ian. DCCCVI A.V.C. [Sunday, 31st December 52 AD])

Titus Flavius Vespasianus was in private conversation with a friend in the rather undistinguished, for an ex-Consul, surrounds of his domus in Rome’s poor Subura Quarter. Whilst the host’s elder son, who had recently celebrated his 11^th birthday, played happily with toys nearby, oblivious to their conversation, they discussed the consular appointments for the New Year, which would be ceremonially formalised on the next day.

"Decimus Junius Silanus Torquatus and Haterius Antoninus are rather disappointing appointments," Narcissus, Claudius’ freedman secretary, ruefully commented, whilst 1 year-old Titus Flavius Domitianus could be heard crying in another room. "You really mean by the term ‘disappointing’," his friend, Vespasianus retorted with a sympathetic grin, "that they’re not allies of yours!"

"Yes," Narcissus confessed, "and their appointment against my advice is another example of my declining and Agrippina’s increasing influence over the Emperor. Perhaps I should retire!"

"That really would be letting Agrippina gain full control," Vespasianus remarked, now with his face serious and completely devoid of his previous grin. "As matters are developing," Narcissus replied, "I mightn’t have any choice, and perhaps I should go voluntarily before I’m pushed!"

"Who will help young Britannicus survive Agrippina’s scheming then?" Vespasianus asked. However, Narcissus did not respond with a direct answer.

After pondering Vespasianus’ question for a while, Narcissus instead worryingly suggested "Perhaps, for your own safety and that of your elder son, you should insist that Titus ends his close friendship with Britannicus!"

(Domus of Axenius, Quirinal Hill, Rome, same time)

Rome, like Britannia, was now experiencing cold wintry weather. The chill was perhaps most profound in Axenius’ luxurious domus on the Quirinal Hill despite the fact that the hypocaust was heating the residence effectively. The real cause was a scrolled letter Cornutus had just received from Pliny via military messenger.

"Axenius disappeared into the dense and dangerous Germanian forests east of the River Rhenus over two months ago," Cornutus advised the equally disturbed Servius, as he read the letter, "and now Pliny has gone alone to try to find him!"

"Pliny forcibly promises," Cornutus added, whilst referring to the letter-writer’s initial acquaintance with Axenius, "that he first discovered him in Castra Vetera and he’s damned if he’s going to lose him there!"

(Near Glevum, Britannia [modern Gloucester, Gloucestershire, England], same time)

‘Diligentia maximum etiam mediocris ingeni subsidium.’
(‘Diligence is a very great help even to a person of mediocre intelligence.’)

New Year celebrations also had cause to be rather muted for me and my companions in faraway Britannia, where I had naturally lost my argument with Gaius, Hylas and Agricola.

After the expected Catuvellauni intermediary had arrived at Glevum to guide the way, Aulus Didius Gallus and his small entourage, similarly on horseback and including me and, undoubtedly to the Governor’s quiet disgust, Gaius, Hylas and Agricola, soon found ourselves at a little hamlet. The brisk winter day was cold but dry and almost cloudless.

Against my own better judgement, I had successfully managed to justify the presence of my companions to Aulus Didius Gallus. I had truthfully declared that Gaius was my own best and indispensable personal adviser. Meanwhile, Hylas and Agricola were to act as our attendants. "I believe that the Catuvellauni will be more relaxed," I reluctantly fibbed to the Governor about the adventurous young pair, "if your civilian entourage apparently includes boy servants."

The hamlet chosen for the parley comprised about twenty typical Dobunni roundhouses, with smoke billowing from the holes in the centre of their wicker roofs. The village was situated by the sides of a stream in a hollow between four hillocks, whose snowy slopes were mostly shorn of trees. Cattle, sheep, goats, pigs and other domestic animals grazed and foraged around and within the settlement, which, however, appeared deserted of people.

The local inhabitants had apparently, perhaps unsurprisingly, either hidden in their homes or fled on our approach. However, no effort was made to disturb or find them, as they were irrelevant to our presence.

Nevertheless, despite the fact that the little hamlet was not far from Glevum and reminded me of the peaceful village in which I had spent my first fourteen years, I sensed danger, as did Gaius. However, Aulus Didius Gallus did not share our feeling, ignoring our advice to post sentinels on the surrounding high ground.

"We’re here in peace to make peace," Aulus Didius Gallus had snootily retorted to our recommendation, "and I don’t want to frighten off a Catuvellauni King intent on doing the same!" Unfortunately, the Governor’s statement did not have to wait long to be proved imprudent.

Shortly after the assigned meeting time of noon on the eve of New Year, a vast horde of heavily armed Catuvellauni cavalry and charioteers appeared on top of the surrounding four hills, clearly not intent on making peace.

(To be continued in chapter LVII – ‘Kalends’)