The Imperial Banner (61 page)

Abascantius grinned. ‘Prior engagement, Corbulo?’

Cassius ignored him and turned to Indavara. ‘What do you think?’

Indavara still had the figurine of Fortuna in his hand. He gazed down at the pale, delicate features of the goddess’s face, then looked up as Cassius asked again.

‘Well?’

THE END

As before, I thought it worthwhile to comment on the historical background to this story and mention a few points of interest.

Gladiators often fought in pairs and invariably specialised in a certain fighting style, but those who staged the contests (emperors included) showed a remarkable capacity for invention, so I think the challenge concocted by Capito is within the realms of possibility. A few fighters did manage to win their freedom – through the favour of their owner, the crowd, a local governor or even the emperor himself. Logic and the information available suggests that only a few would have achieved victories in double figures but grave inscriptions do attest to a select band who defeated astonishing numbers of foes. The most impressive of these honours one Asteropaeus, who is credited with no less than one hundred and seven victories.

The Emperor Aurelian did conclude some sort of an accommodation with the Persians in 272. Although hostilities were renewed within a few years (possibly even towards the end of Aurelian’s reign) the arrangement was undoubtedly crucial in restoring stability to the Roman east during this period.

Faridun’s Banner is just one of the many names given to the royal standard of the Sassanid kings. The flag (most commonly referred to as the Derafsh Kaviani) was as revered and significant as I have suggested and remains an important symbol in Persian/Iranian culture. There is not – as far as I know – any record of its theft but the Palmyrans did reach Ctesiphon in about 262, though there is disagreement about whether or not the city was captured.

Regarding the rather ‘undramatic’ siege of Palmyra, I have tried to reflect modern thinking on what actually occurred when the Roman forces reached the city. In truth, victory had effectively already been assured by the triumphs at Immae and Emesa.

The tales of the dog-killing at Tyana and the shooting of the Palmyran defender by the Persian archer come from Roman historians.

We do know that much of Palmyra’s treasure was claimed by Aurelian – primarily to fund the cost of the campaign – and that much of it was returned to Rome.

There are few specific details about which legions were involved in the fighting. In this story, what I have called the Fourth Legion is tasked with keeping watch over Palmyra and eastern Syria. The
Legio IV Scythica
seemed a logical choice because it was based at Zeugma in the first century and was still there in the fourth century. Similarly, the Sixteenth Legion (
Legio XVI Flavia Firma
) was based at Samosata during the reign of Hadrian, and was still in Syria in the time of Diocletian.

The figure of Marcellinus appears in the Roman histories. ‘Marshal’ is simply a convenient term but does something to convey the breadth of his command over the eastern empire.

It was Marcellinus who informed the emperor of unrest in Palmyra the following year – 273. The small garrison of Romans left to watch over the city had been killed by rebels, possibly under the leadership of a Palmyran named Apsaeus (who may have had some familial connection to Zenobia). It is not clear exactly what the rebels hoped to achieve but - for the second time in a year – Aurelian marched on Palmyra. The uprising was swiftly defeated and the emperor abandoned his earlier restraint. The city was sacked, the defences dismantled; and Palmyra never recovered. The remains of the city – including the huge Temple of Bel – survive to this day.

Although most historians agree that Zenobia was taken to Rome and presented to the people as part of Aurelian’s triumphal parade, we cannot be certain of her eventual fate. It is probable that the Emperor spared her life. According to the
Historia Augusta
, he even provided her with a villa in Tibur (modern Tivoli), where she lived on with her children.

As mentioned in the historical note for
The Siege
, the background information concerning what I have called the Imperial Security Service is accurate. The term ‘grain men’, or
frumentarii
, relates to the organisation’s original purpose: supplying the legions with grain. Nothing (as far as I’ve been able to discover) is known of the role its agents played before, during and after the conflict with Palmyra. However, given Aurelian’s commitment to strict military discipline and purging of ‘disruptive’ elements within the Senate – it’s hard to believe he didn’t rely on his
frumentarii
as much as his predecessors. Historians have presented differing interpretations of how ‘the Service’ functioned within the military and provincial hierarchies, but given that the organisation was headed by a senior centurion in Rome – who was directly responsible to the emperor – I imagine the agents often acted with considerable autonomy.

There is general agreement that the
frumentarii
were widely disliked for their shadowy activities, and that in later years the organisation was plagued by corruption and venality. I remain wary of accepting this characterisation as ‘the whole truth’. Alexander Severus (emperor from 222–235), for example, was praised for choosing only honest individuals for his ‘grain men’. Additionally, when we consider that the agents were primarily dedicated to serving the emperor’s interests, we might assume that their conduct often reflected the rule of the commander-in chief: in the case of Aurelian, a strident – but by the standards of his day – relatively benevolent figure. It must also be acknowledged that rank corruption was virtually a defining feature of the entire army by the end of third century.

The representation of Paul of Samosata within the story reflects what it known from the sources. Historians disagree on the nature of his association with Zenobia but he was certainly Bishop of Antioch during the Palmyran occupation. The subsequent events were significant because it was the first time the Church invited a Roman emperor to make a judgment on their affairs.

It should be noted that the Christian community featured are seen generally from Cassius’s point of view; that is to say the point of view of an upper-class Roman. During these years, Christians were not subject to the widespread persecution carried out by earlier and later emperors, but life was rarely easy for them. The Romans were well used to tolerating a plethora of belief systems alongside their own, but they did insist on some adherence to ‘state religion’, in particular the worship of the emperor. It was the ‘exclusive’ nature of the Christian faith that engendered such frustration and hatred.

Some other issues:

Symbolic spear-heads – or ‘spear-standards’ – like the one issued to Cassius were exclusively the preserve of officers representing the governor’s staff in a given province. Some actual examples have survived. These officials were also often in possession of a
diploma
, an authorisation document that enabled them to use the
cursus publicus
– the postal system which allowed officials to communicate messages along military roads. The way-stations were established to facilitate this.

Although I have featured a single magistrate for the city of Antioch, there were in fact usually several
aediles,
whose responsibilities included the policing of roads, markets, baths and so on. I have chosen not to use Latin terms in this series, so I decided on ‘city sergeants’ for the magistrate’s men. These were of course the
lictors,
whose clubs or
fasces
(later the symbol of Mussolini’s Fascists) represented the magistrate’s power to punish.

I describe Lollius as ‘legion quartermaster’. The correct Latin term is
praefectus castrorum
(camp prefect).

The records office at the basilica may seem anachronistic but historians have shown that Roman military ‘filing systems’ were very sophisticated. There is clear evidence of cataloging, annotation and cross-referencing. It is probable that details on every soldier would have been recorded in some form or another.

It may seem odd that a city of Antioch’s size had no permanent prison, but incarceration wasn’t generally used as a form of punishment. Those behind bars would mainly have been awaiting either trial or execution.

Mithraism was indeed very popular amongst the military, particularly the lower ranks. Mithraeums like the one described can still be seen at numerous sites. They seem to suggest secrecy and mystery, but in fact many followers would have worshipped openly. After Constantine’s conversion to Christianity, Mithraism suffered its own persecutions and eventually ceased to exist as a significant religious movement.

The mercenaries featured in the story are based on the Palestinian ‘club-men’ – the fearsome auxiliaries said to have played an important part in Aurelian’s victory over Palmyra.

Novels such as this are not possible without the work of historians, and I am indebted to all those whose texts I used.

I have tried to be as accurate as is possible within the bounds of a fictional work. Any perceived mistakes or inaccuracies are mine.

The Imperial Banner
was completed between January 2010 and November 2011, a much shorter period than the (rather excessive) five years it took to finish
The Siege
. It is a pleasure to acknowledge the professional and personal support I have received during that period.

Thanks again to ‘the readers’ – the people who took the time to look at early drafts and provide me with some very useful feedback – my dad Neil Brown, Adrian Smith, Becky Amiss, Matthew Amiss, Neil Harrison and Lindsey Roffe.

I must also mention some people criminally overlooked in the acknowledgments for the first book: David and Debs Brown, Mark Sanderson and Milena Pierscinska.

Once again, my agent David Grossman provided sterling encouragement and guidance.

My editor, Oliver Johnson, was again massively helpful in ironing out literary wrinkles. His enthusiasm for the direction in which I wanted to take the series was, and is, much appreciated.

Credit is also due to Rosie Collins, who created the map of the Roman empire and the map of Antioch; and Larry Rostant, whose striking covers complement the stories so well.

Editorial assistant Harriet Bourton was meticulous, organised and patient throughout (even when I returned a late draft with over a thousand changes!). Thanks also to copy-editor Morag Lyall, especially for spotting the ‘lost days’! The efforts of all those at Hodder & Stoughton who contributed is much appreciated.

Nick Brown grew up in Norfolk and later studied history at the University of Sussex. In 2000 he embarked on a PGCE course at the University of Exeter and began a career as a teacher of humanities and English. For the last five years he has been working at an international school in Warsaw. He has been writing since his early twenties, focusing initially on screenplays.
The Imperial Banner
is the second novel in the Agent of Rome series.

Agent of Rome: The Siege

Death This Day (A short work of fiction)