Rome and the Conquest of Mesopotamia (Book 8 of the Veteran of Rome Series) Read online

  Rome and the Conquest of Mesopotamia

  Book eight of the Veteran of Rome series

  By: William Kelso

  Visit the author's website http://www.williamkelso.co.uk/

  William Kelso is also the author of:

  The Shield of Rome

  The Fortune of Carthage

  Devotio: The House of Mus

  Caledonia - Book One of the Veteran of Rome series

  Hibernia - Book Two of the Veteran of Rome series

  Britannia – Book Three of the Veteran of Rome series

  Hyperborea – Book Four of the Veteran of Rome series

  Germania – Book Five of the Veteran of Rome series

  The Dacian War – Book Six of the Veteran of Rome series

  Armenia Capta – Book Seven of the Veteran of Rome series

  Published in 2018 by KelsoBooks Ltd.

  Copyright © William Kelso. First Edition

  The author has asserted their moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

  All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

  To: Private John Kelso, Royal Engineers, North Staffordshire Regiment, 1883 - 1960

  ABOUT ME

  Hello, my name is William Kelso. I was born in the Netherlands to British parents. My interest in history and in particular military history started at a very young age when I was lucky enough to hear my grandfather describing his experiences of serving in the RAF in North Africa and Italy during World War 2. Recently my family has discovered that one of my Scottish and Northern Irish ancestors fought under Wellington at the Battle of Waterloo in 1815.

  I love writing and bringing to life the ancient world of Rome, Carthage and the Germanic and Celtic tribes. It’s my thing. My aim is to write 100 books in my lifetime. After graduation, I worked for 22 years in financial publishing and event management in the city of London as a salesman for some big conference organizers, trying to weave my stories in the evenings after dinner and in weekends. Working in the heart of the original Roman city of Londinium I spent many years walking its streets and visiting the places, whose names still commemorate the 2,000-year-old ancient Roman capital of Britannia, London Wall, Watling Street, London Bridge and Walbrook. The city of London if you know where to look has many fascinating historical corners. So, since the 2nd March 2017 I have taken the plunge and become a full-time writer. Stories as a form of entertainment are as old as cave man and telling them is what I want to do.

  My books are all about ancient Rome, especially the early to mid-republic as this was the age of true Roman greatness. My other books include, The Shield of Rome, The Fortune of Carthage, Caledonia (1), Hibernia (2), Britannia (3), Hyperborea (4), Germania (5), The Dacian War (6), Armenia Capta (7) and Devotio: The House of Mus. Go on, give them a go.

  In my spare time, I help my brother, who is also a Winston Churchill impersonator, run his battlefield tours company which takes people around the battlefields of Arnhem, Dunkirk, Agincourt, Normandy, the Rhine crossing and Monte Cassino. I live in London with my wife and support the “Help for Heroes” charity and a tiger in India.

  Please visit my website http://www.williamkelso.co.uk/ and have a look at my historical video blog!

  Feel free to write to me with any feedback on my books. Email: [email protected]

  Rome and the Conquest of Mesopotamia

  Book eight of the Veteran of Rome series

  Chapter One – Praefectus Annonae

  February 115 AD – The City of Rome

  “They are all here,” Kyna said as she came up to Marcus, who was standing in the bedroom. “Cassius is with them. But I don’t think they are happy about the meeting taking place in the garden. It’s freezing out there. Even with the comfort of the fire.”

  Marcus ignored his wife and said nothing, as a slave silently proceeded to adjust his senatorial toga and Kyna sighed and lowered her gaze.

  “Would it not be better to hold the meeting inside,” she blurted out.

  “No,” Marcus said sharply. “A bit of discomfort will make them ready to listen and my garden is one of the finest in Rome. They can enjoy the views. I need them focussed on the job. This is an important meeting and if they can’t stand the cold then that is their problem.”

  “So that’s your plan,” Kyna replied, raising her eyebrows. “Manoeuvre the enemy into an unfavourable position. Then force his surrender. This is not the army Marcus. You are not fighting a war. These men are not under your command. You can’t order them about as if they were your soldiers. You are a politician now and those men out there are civilians; wealthy businessmen. You need their cooperation, not their surrender.”

  “I know,” Marcus said stoically, “and I know what I am doing. It never hurts to have an advantage when negotiating.”

  Kyna sighed again, and with a little flick of her hand, she dismissed the slave and waited until he had left the room. Then she turned to Marcus, stepped towards him and slowly ran her fingers down his white senatorial toga.

  “All right husband,” she said quietly looking up at Marcus with a little fond smile. “All right, I am with you. Do this your way then. I know that this is important and I am sure you will do your duty and make a fine politician. If they are to freeze their balls off in the garden, then so be it. Just remember you are no longer a young man yourself.”

  Marcus didn’t reply as Kyna quickly left the room. Then slowly he turned to look down at the two remaining fingers on his left hand. He’d lost the other three fingers in the first Dacian war, during the fighting along the Danube. The wounds had resulted in his honourable discharge from the 2nd Batavian Auxiliary Cohort after twenty-three years’ service. Kyna had a point. He was no longer a young man. At fifty-two years of age he was getting old and starting to feel it every day, despite a healthy diet and a vigorous exercise regime. And just recently Kyna had started to raise the subject of retirement and a permanent return to his estate on the Isle of Vectis in Britannia. The farm, under Dylis’s capable management, was doing well and Kyna had argued that maybe it was time he slowed down and retired. Slowed down, he thought with sudden scorn. He’d told her, no. His red hair had not faded and he still had the energy for a challenge. Annoyed, he turned to glare at the black cat which sat on the bed, silently watching him with its yellow eyes.

  It had been two weeks since he had been appointed as Praefectus Annonae, government minister in charge of the grain supply to the city of Rome. Nigrinus had organised it, of course, and had used his influence to persuade Similis, the prefect left in charge of Rome by emperor Trajan, to appoint him to the job. Marcus had not asked for the position, but Nigrinus had said that it was an important job and that the War Party needed their supporters and members in high governmental places. Especially now that Trajan and most of the senior members of his council were faraway in the east, fighting in the Parthian war. Marcus sighed. He’d been a little reluctant at first, but he would do his duty. He would be a politician if that was what Nigrinus and the War Party wanted. But most satisfying of all it gave him the chance to prove his wife wrong for he had no intention of retiring. Th
e new job had meant, of course, that he had far less time to spend on his military veteran’s charity work. The charity however was doing well, and with the additional resources that his colleagues in the War Party, Quietus, Palma and Celsus had promised, he’d been able to expand the premises and hire a manager.

  Prefect in charge of the grain supply for the city of Rome. It didn’t sound very exciting, but it was, as he had quickly learned, a most important government position. Two hundred thousand people in the city of Rome qualified for a free dole of grain and it was now his responsibility to keep the flow of grain from Egypt and Africa coming without interruption. The new job had led to a considerable increase in his personal visibility in the city and he was not yet sure whether he enjoyed all the new attention. Not only did he now report to Similis, his boss and prefect of Rome, but he was also accountable to the senate with its multitude of ambitious men, warring factions and troublemakers. And then there was Nigrinus - the leader of the War Party, and a leading contender to succeed Trajan as the next emperor. Nigrinus had told him to use his new position to win the loyalty and support of the shipping and business guilds, associated with the vast maritime grain supply operation. Nigrinus wanted the business and industrial guilds to become firm supporters of the War Party. That was the real reason Marcus had been appointed.

  And so, Marcus thought, with another sigh, he now had twelve private owners of the largest shipping companies in the world waiting for him in the garden of his modest villa on the summit of Janiculum hill. Together these men, all wealthy and well-connected businessmen, owned and operated nearly ninety percent of the huge fleet of grain ships, that ploughed the sea between Alexandria, Carthage and Rome, providing the means by which over sixty million modii, four hundred thousand tons of grain was shipped to Rome each year to feed a hungry and ungrateful population.

  ***

  Indus was waiting for him, as he came into the main room of his house. His big, burly Batavian bodyguard was clad in a simple brown tunic over, which he was wearing a winter cloak. A gladius was hanging from his belt. As Marcus, clad in his splendid white senatorial toga went out into the garden, Indus turned and silently followed him. Outside it was cold. The dull February skies were covered in grey clouds and it looked like it was about to rain. But it was nothing compared to a proper winter in Britannia or on the Danube frontier Marcus thought. A wood fire, carefully tended to by a slave, was burning in the middle of the garden and around it the shipping magnates were huddled in their winter cloaks. They didn’t look pleased. As Marcus approached, his young secretary Cassius, Elsa’s husband, rose quickly to his feet and hastily came towards Marcus.

  “Maybe we could…” Cassius said.

  “No, the meeting will be held here in the garden,” Marcus interrupted, before Cassius could finish his sentence.

  “They are not happy about this Sir,” Cassius said in an urgent whisper. “Would it not lead to better results if we did this indoors?”

  But Marcus shook his head and, moving past Cassius, he strode up to the assembled men and as he did, the shipping magnates rose to their feet and inclined their heads in a respectful greeting.

  “Gentlemen, thank you all for coming,” Marcus said in a stern and clear voice, as he motioned for them to sit down. “We have important business to discuss.”

  From the corner of his eye Marcus noticed that Cassius had sat down again and was smiling broadly at the shipping company owners, doing his best to make them feel at ease. It made Marcus want to laugh. Elsa was besotted by her newly-wed husband and even though Cassius was all right, Marcus could not help feeling that she could have done better. But maybe Kyna was right he thought. Maybe he was just jealous of the young handsome doctor, who had taken his Elsa away from him.

  “Let us start our meeting with a prayer of thanks to Ceres, goddess of the harvest,” Marcus said as, he turned to the shipping magnates. And as he spoke the words, he motioned for the slave to start burning the incense. As the powerful scent of jasmine spread across the garden, the uncomfortable silence around the fire continued.

  “As you all know I have only recently been appointed prefect in charge of the grain supply,” Marcus said, as he remained standing. “And this is my first chance to speak to you all. I take this responsibility very seriously. The core competency and responsibility of good government is the transport and distribution of grain to the people of Rome. Rome needs stability in the grain supply. We have import targets. It is of vital importance to the city and to the emperor. Most ordinary citizens in the city cannot afford to purchase grain on the open market. It must therefore be subsidized if we are to avoid civil unrest. The unity and power of the Roman state will fall apart if we don’t do this. So, I want you all to know that, with your help, I intend to make sure that the people of Rome will not go hungry. We must all work together to maintain this objective.”

  “We know this,” one of the shipping magnates interrupted irritably. “Some of us have been involved in this trade for generations.”

  Marcus nodded as he turned to the man who had spoken out.

  “It is good to see such loyalty,” he replied raising his chin. “And no doubt your family have prospered from the imperial grain trade.”

  “Prospered,” the magnate replied, turning to glance at his fellow owners with an incredulous look. “Sure, transporting grain from Egypt to Rome is important but it’s hardly the most profitable commodity. All of us here could make much more money if our ships were laden with higher end products, such as wine, silk, spices or luxury goods.”

  “Or, if we were allowed to sell our grain at market prices,” another magnate said in a determined voice, shivering as he did.

  “All of you are well compensated for your efforts,” Cassius said suddenly, in a sharp voice that took Marcus by surprise. Glancing round at the young man Marcus saw that his secretary had risen to feet, his face resolute, fearless and impassioned as he gazed around at the group of shipping company owners.

  “The fiscus pays you well for your labour and investment,” Cassius said, in the voice of someone convinced that he was right. “Grain may not be the most profitable commodity but your participation in the trade brings you great benefits. Your ships are exempt from harbour taxes and other taxes. You are granted Roman citizenship. You can apply for cheap state loans to build new grain ships. You are exempt from the law that penalises celibacy and Tutela, the duties of guardianship and if you are a female ship owner you get the same legal privileges of a woman who has had four children. That is not nothing. These are great privileges.”

  Cassius came to an abrupt stop, his cheeks flushed with youthful emotion and, for a long moment the meeting remained silent and the only noise was the crackle and hiss of the wood fire.

  “I don’t see any women here today,” one of the magnates muttered sourly, as he glanced around the gathering.

  Marcus hastily gestured for Cassius to sit back down and then cleared his throat.

  “In principal I admit that I am against the whole idea of free grain handouts,” Marcus said in a grave voice, as he turned his attention back to the gathering. “Free grain handouts ruin the agriculture of Italy and why should we give away something for free when others work hard to provide their families with food. The principal sucks and, if I were you, I too would want to get involved in more lucrative trade ventures. But,” Marcus sighed and held up his hand for silence, “It is a necessity. An ugly necessity and if we are to avoid civil unrest, we must do it. The prestige of the emperor will suffer if he is unable to feed his own people.”

  “Agreed,” one of the shipping magnates cried. “But why force us to transport all the grain during the winter months. The winter is a dangerous time to be at sea. Our ships continually run the risk of being struck by storms and lost. Why can we not sail during the calmer months?”

  “Your ships are well insured by the state,” Marcus retorted. “You know this. We will not allow risk to move down the supply chain. If they are lost, we will
compensate you. The Roman state is guaranteeing you a steady profit without any risk. That is a wonderful position to be in. Now,” Marcus said moving on swiftly to the main purpose of the meeting. “I have not called you all here to complain about the system. The system is fair. It works, but from time to time we do need to make adjustments. Today is such an occasion when we need to make a change. So, I need to tell you that it is the imperial wish that all privileges enjoyed by ship owners involved in the state grain trade will only continue to be granted, if at least two thirds of the shipper’s capital is invested in the grain-shipping transport business.”

  “Two thirds of our capital,” one of the magnates exclaimed in horror.

  “You can’t be serious,” another cried out in surprise.

  “That is what Trajan wants,” Marcus said sternly. “The grain supply to the city of Rome is of vital importance to the stability of the empire. We need all participating shipping companies to be fully committed to the cause.”

  “We are fully committed; we have been for decades,” an outraged voice squealed. “Who the hell does Trajan think he is, making such demands. We are honourable businessmen. We pay our share of taxes and provide a vital service, but if we are forced to commit two thirds of our capital to the transport of grain, it will ruin us. You may as well slap us with another tax.”

  “It’s not going to ruin you,” Marcus snapped, shaking his head. “Consider this as part of your patriotic duty.”

  The meeting broke out into bad-tempered muttering and protests and, as the chorus of voices filled his garden Marcus turned away to look out towards the vast city of Rome that lay half shrouded in February mist and cloud. Nigrinus had instructed him to win the support of these men, but right now all he wanted to do was kick their arrogant arses out of his garden.