The Emperor's Exile (Eagles of the Empire 19)
Simon Scarrow
Copyright © 2020 Simon Scarrow
The right of Simon Scarrow to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
First published in Great Britain in 2020
by HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP
First published as an Ebook in 2020
by HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP
All characters – other than the obvious historical figures – in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library
Ebook conversion by Avon DataSet Ltd, Arden Court, Alcester, Warwickshire
eISBN: 978 1 4722 5842 7
Cover design by Patrick Insole
Map by Tim Peters
HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
About the Author
Also by Simon Scarrow
Praise
About the Book
Dedication
Map – Roman Province of Sardinia AD 57
Cast List
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Discover more thrilling novels from Simon Scarrow
About the Author
Simon Scarrow has been passionate about writing since an early age. After a childhood spent travelling the world, he pursued his great love of history as a teacher before becoming a full-time writer. His Roman soldier heroes Cato and Macro first appeared in 2000 in UNDER THE EAGLE, and have subsequently fought their way through many bestselling novels, including TRAITORS OF ROME, THE BLOOD OF ROME, and DAY OF THE CAESARS.
Simon Scarrow is also the author of the novels YOUNG BLOODS, THE GENERALS, FIRE AND SWORD and THE FIELDS OF DEATH, chronicling the lives of the Duke of Wellington and Napoleon Bonaparte, and of SWORD & SCIMITAR, the epic tale of the 1565 Siege of Malta, as well as HEARTS OF STONE, set in Greece during the Second World War. He is the co-author with T. J. Andrews of Roman era bestsellers PIRATA, INVADER and ARENA, and the co-author with Lee Francis of the contemporary thriller PLAYING WITH DEATH.
To find out more about Simon Scarrow and his novels, visit www.simonscarrow.co.uk and www.catoandmacro.com .
@SimonScarrow
/OfficialSimonScarrow
By Simon Scarrow
Blackout
The Eagles of the Empire Series
The Britannia Campaign
Under the Eagle (AD 42–43, Britannia)
The Eagle’s Conquest (AD 43, Britannia)
When the Eagle Hunts (AD 44, Britannia)
The Eagle and the Wolves (AD 44, Britannia)
The Eagle’s Prey (AD 44, Britannia)
Rome and the Eastern Provinces
The Eagle’s Prophecy (AD 45, Rome)
The Eagle in the Sand (AD 46, Judaea)
Centurion (AD 46, Syria)
The Mediterranean
The Gladiator (AD 48–49, Crete)
The Legion (AD 49, Egypt)
Praetorian (AD 51, Rome)
The Return to Britannia
The Blood Crows (AD 51, Britannia)
Brothers in Blood (AD 51, Britannia)
Britannia (AD 52, Britannia)
Hispania
Invictus (AD 54, Hispania)
The Return to Rome
Day of the Caesars (AD 54, Rome)
The Eastern Campaign
The Blood of Rome (AD 55, Armenia)
Traitors of Rome (AD 56, Syria)
The Emperor’s Exile (AD 57, Sardinia)
The Wellington and Napoleon Quartet
Young Bloods
The Generals
Fire and Sword
The Fields of Death
Sword and Scimitar
(Great Siege of Malta)
Hearts of Stone
(Second World War)
The Gladiator Series
Gladiator: Fight for Freedom
Gladiator: Street Fighter
Gladiator: Son of Spartacus
Gladiator: Vengeance
Writing with T. J. Andrews
Arena (AD 41, Rome)
Invader (AD 44, Britannia)
Pirata (AD 25, Adriatic)
Writing with Lee Francis
Playing With Death
Praise for the Eagles of the Empire novels
‘Blood, gore, political intrigue . . . A historical fiction thriller that’ll have you reaching for your gladius’ Daily Sport
‘Gripping . . . Ferocious and compelling, it is a story of blood, romance and sacrifice’ Daily Express
‘Brilliantly told adventures . . . Roman soldiering at its very best – even by Scarrow’s high standards’ Sunday Sport
‘A new book in Simon Scarrow’s series about the Roman army is always a joy’ The Times
‘I really don’t need this kind of competition . . . It’s a great read’ Bernard Cornwell
‘Scarrow’s [novels] rank with the best’ Independent
‘A fast-moving and exceptionally well-paced historical thriller’ BBC History Magazine
‘Rollicking good fun’ Mail on Sunday
‘[Simon Scarrow] blends together the historical facts and characters to create a book that simply cannot be put down . . . Highly recommended’ Historical Novels Review
About the Book
Summer, AD 57. Battle-scarred veterans of the Roman army Tribune Cato and Centurion Macro return to Rome. Thanks to the failure of their recent campaign on the eastern frontier they face a hostile reception at the imperial court. Their reputations and future are at stake.
When Emperor Nero’s infatuation with his mistress is exploited by political enemies, he reluctantly banishes her into exile. Cato, isolated and unwelcome in Roma, is forced to escort her to Sardinia.
Arriving on the restless, simmering island with a small cadre of officers, Cato faces peril on three fronts: a fractured command, a deadly plague spreading across the province . . . and a violent ins
urgency threatening to tip the province into blood-stained chaos.
To my son, Nick, in the year of his 21st birthday and graduation.
Congratulations, respect and love.
Cast List
Praetorians
Prefect Quintus Licinius Cato : a young officer, much put upon
Centurion Lucius Cornelius Macro : a veteran coming up to retirement
Centurions : Ignatius, Plancinus, Porcino, Metellus, officers of the Second Cohort of the Praetorian Guard, all good men and true
Optios : Pelius, Cornelius, of the Second Cohort, bound for promotion (and a troubled province)
Cato’s Household
Apollonius : an intelligence operative, and intelligent with it
Petronella : wife of Macro, looking forward to his eventual retirement
Lucius : son of Cato, looking forward to growing up and becoming Macro
Croton : major-domo of Cato’s household
Pollenus : a slave, formerly owned by Senator Seneca and therefore viewed with justifiable suspicion
Cassius : a ferocious-looking mongrel with a heart of gold
Imperial Palace
Emperor Nero : vain playboy ruler of the Roman world
Senator Seneca : Nero’s patient mentor
Prefect Burrus : Nero’s impatient adviser
Province of Sardinia
Governor Borus Pomponius Scurra : an indolent aristocrat promoted far beyond his meagre abilities
Decianus Catus : adviser to Scurra; a man who knows how to pull strings
Decurion Locullus : a soldier on Scurra’s staff
Claudia Acte : Nero’s exiled mistress, and none too pleased about it
Centurion Massimilianus : senior centurion of the Sixth Gallic cohort
Optio Micus : a courageous young officer of the Sixth Gallic cohort
Pinotus : magistrate of the town of Augustis
Lupis : a former hunter turned auxiliary soldier
Calgarno : a young brigand who has bitten off more than he can chew
Barcano : a mule-team owner who values his business above his life
Vespillo : a mule driver who values his life above his employer’s business
Benicus : a brigand leader, who values other people’s property above his ethics
Milopus : a shepherd who knows more than is good for him
Others
Olearius Rhianarius Probitas : owner of a no-frills shipping company
Prefects : Vestinus, Bastillus and Tadius, cohort commanders of the Sardinian garrison
Chapter One
Rome, summer AD 57
There was a fine view of the city from the garden of the Pride of Latium. The inn was atop a small rise just off the Via Ostiensis, the road that led from the port of Ostia to Rome, some fifteen miles away. A light breeze rustled through the boughs of a tall poplar tree growing a short distance from the inn. The tables and benches in the garden were sheltered from the stifling glare of the mid-afternoon sun by an arrangement of trellises over which vines had been trained. The Pride of Latium was well positioned to take advantage of the passing trade. There were merchants and cart drivers travelling along the route that carried goods to the capital from across the breadth of the Empire, officials and tourists coming and going from the recently completed port complex at Ostia. There were travellers leaving Rome to voyage across the ocean, or, in the case of the small group seated at the table with the best view of Rome, returning to the capital after a period of service on the eastern frontier.
There were five of them: two men, a woman, a young boy and a large, wild-looking dog. They were being watched closely by the owner of the inn as he wiped ants off his counter with an old rag. He was shrewd enough to recognise soldiers when he saw them, in or out of uniform. Even though the men were dressed in light linen tunics rather than the heavy wool of the legions, they carried themselves with the assurance of veterans, and they bore the scars of men who had seen plenty of action. The oldest of the party was shorter than average but powerfully built. His cropped dark hair was streaked with grey and his heavy features were lined and scarred. But there were creases about his eyes and each side of his mouth and a ready smile that indicated good humour, as well as the marks of hard-won experience. He had fifty years under his belt, the innkeeper estimated, and must surely have reached the end of his career. The other man, sitting beside the boy, was also dark-haired but well over a decade younger, perhaps aged thirty or so. It was hard to be certain as there was a thoughtfulness to his expression and a controlled grace to his movements that revealed a maturity beyond his years. He was as tall as his comrade was short and as slender as the older man was bulky and muscular.
They were as mismatched a pair as any two men the innkeeper had seen, but they were clearly tough cases, and he was grateful they were only on their first jar of wine and sober. He hoped they would remain that way. Soldiers in their cups could be cheery and maudlin one moment, and angry and violent the next, on the merest of presumed slights. Fortunately, the woman and the boy were likely to be a moderating influence. She was sitting next to the older man and shifted closer to him as he wrapped a hairy arm around her. Her long dark hair was tied back in a simple ponytail and revealed a wide face with dark eyes and sensuous lips. She had a full figure and an easy manner and matched the men in drinking the wine cup for cup. The boy was five or so, with dark curly hair, and had the same thin features as the younger man, whom the innkeeper assumed was his father. There was a sly mischief about the child’s expression, and as the adults talked, he reached a small hand towards the woman’s cup until she swatted it gently away without even looking, as women will when they have developed the uncanny sixth sense that comes with raising children.
The innkeeper smiled as he tossed the rag into a bucket of murky water and made his way over to their table, keeping his distance from the dog.
‘Will you be having anything to eat, my friends?’
They glanced up at him and the older man replied. ‘What do you have?’
‘There’s a beef stew. Pork cuts – hot or cold. There’s roasted chicken, goat’s cheese, fresh-baked bread and seasonal fruit. Take your pick and I’ll have my girl prepare you the best roadside meal you’ll ever eat on the Ostian Way.’
‘The best food over a whole fifteen miles?’ The older man chuckled and continued in a wry tone. ‘Wouldn’t be much of a challenge to put that to the test.’
‘Leave off, Macro,’ the younger man intervened as he turned to address the innkeeper. ‘We need a quick meal. We’ll take the cold cuts of pork and chicken with a basket of bread. Do you have olive oil and garum?’
‘Yes, for a bit extra.’
‘Don’t like garum,’ the boy muttered. ‘Horrible stuff.’
The older man smiled at him. ‘You don’t have to eat it, Lucius. I’ll have your ration, lad.’
‘What’s the price?’
The innkeeper did a quick mental calculation based on the cost of the raw ingredients, but mostly based on the quality of the men’s clothing and the likelihood of them carrying their savings from their previous posting. In his experience, such men returning home tended to be willing to spend over the odds without creating a fuss. He scratched the side of his head and cleared his throat. ‘I can do you some good scoff for three sestertii a head. Garum, oil and another jar of wine included.’
‘Three sestertii!’ the woman gasped in derision. ‘Three? You are joking, mate. If we paid five for the lot we’d still be paying over the odds.’
‘Now look here . . .’ The innkeeper arranged his features into an indignant expression and took a half-step back. But she cut him off before he could go any further, thrusting a finger at him and looking down its length as if she was taking aim with an arrow.
‘No! You look here, you gouging weasel. I’ve bought food in the markets of Rome since I could walk. I’ve also been to country markets and those in the streets of Tarsus the last two years. Nowhere have I seen anyone try it on
like you are doing right now.’
‘But . . . but prices have increased since you were away,’ he blustered. ‘There’s been a famine in Sardinia, and a plague, and it’s driving up costs.’
‘Pull the other one,’ she shot back.
The younger man could not help laughing. He took her hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. ‘Easy there, Petronella. You’re scaring the man. This is my treat.’ He looked at the innkeeper. ‘Let’s split the difference, for the sake of peace and amity, eh?’
‘Ten, then,’ the innkeeper replied swiftly. ‘Can’t do it for any less.’
‘Ten?’ The man sighed. ‘Let’s call it eight, or I’ll set Petronella loose on you again.’
The innkeeper glanced at her warily and sucked in a breath between his stained teeth before he nodded. ‘Eight, then. But no wine.’
‘With wine,’ the other man insisted firmly, all trace of humour gone from his voice as he stared hard with dark eyes.
The innkeeper puffed out his cheeks, then turned and scurried back to the door behind the counter that led to the kitchen, shouting instructions at his serving girl.
‘That’s my lass,’ said Macro. ‘Fierce as a lioness. I have the scratches to prove it.’
‘You shouldn’t have paid eight, Master Cato.’ Petronella frowned. ‘It’s too much.’
Cato shook his head, mildly amused that she still deferred to him as her master on occasion. He had freed her over a year ago, after Macro’s affection for her had been made clear. And now they were married and the veteran centurion was determined to apply for his discharge so that the two of them could settle into peaceful retirement. In truth, peace might be a little bit more difficult to achieve than Macro assumed, since they were shortly bound for Britannia, where he was to take up his half of the business owned by himself and his mother. Cato knew her well enough to be sure she would match Petronella’s fierce personality claw for claw. If he was any judge of either woman’s character, then Macro was going to have his hands full. The centurion would soon be wishing he was back serving with the legions facing somewhat less fearsome conflict. Still, that was his choice and there was nothing Cato could, or would, do about it now that his friend had made his decision. He would miss having Macro around – would miss him greatly – but he must find his own way ahead. Perhaps their paths would cross again in the future if Cato was assigned to the army in Britannia.
