Pilate's Wife: A Novel of the Roman Empire Read Free

to die.
    Tata glanced questioningly at Germanicus. The commander shook his head, then turned, leaping easily onto a large rock. As he stood calmly surveying the scene, I thought him noble in his cuirass and greaves, the plume on his helmet fluttering in a light breeze. Speaking quietly so that the angry men had to be still, he paid tribute to Emperor Augustus, who had recently died. He praised the victories of Tiberius, the new emperor, and spoke of the army's past glories. "You are Rome's emissaries to the world," he reminded them, "but what has happened to your famous military discipline?"
    "I'll show you what happened." A grizzled one-eyed veteran strode forward, pulling off his leather cuirass. "This is what the Germans did to me." He displayed a scar on his belly. "And this is what your officers did." He turned to reveal a back lacerated with scars.
    Angry cries echoed as the men railed against Tiberius. "It's Germanicus who should be emperor," the ringleaders shouted. "You're the rightful heir, we'll fight with you all the way to Rome." Many took up the cry, banging their shields and chanting. "Lead us to Rome! Together to Rome!" The angry soldiers pressed forward. I shuddered as I saw them roll their swords back and forth against their shields, the prelude to mutiny.
    Germanicus pulled the sword from his belt and pointed it at himself. "Better death than treason to the emperor."
    A tall burly man, his body laced with scars, pushed forward and removed his own sword. "Then use mine. It's sharper." As the angry crowd closed in around Germanicus, Agrippina pushed her way toward him. A burly soldier more than a head taller sought to bar her way, but she merely thrust her large belly at him, daring any to lift a hand. The front ranks stepped back. Scarred veterans who'd stood with weapons raised slowly lowered them.
    As the soldiers cleared a path for her, Agrippina walked proudly to the rock where her husband stood. Father and I dismounted as the men quieted. Mother and Marcella climbed from the wagon and stood beside us. Her wide brown eyes even wider, Mother slipped her arm in Tata 's. Smiling confidently, she took my hand, calling over her shoulder for Marcella to hold my other hand. We were all trembling.
    Every eye turned to Germanicus. He looked so brave, his voice ringing clear and true. "In the name of Emperor Tiberius, I grant immediate retirement for those who have served twenty years or more. Men with sixteen years' service will remain, but with no duties other than to defend against attack. Back pay will be paid twice over."
    Soldiers boosted Agrippina up onto the rock. She stood by her husband, the two making a handsome tableau on the great flat stone. "Germanicus, your leader and mine," she said, "is a man of his word. What he promises will come to pass. I know him and I speak the truth." She stood proudly, her face serene despite the silence that greeted her words. At last one man cried out: "Germanicus!" Others joined him, some tossed their helmets high in the air. Their cheers made me want to cry.
    "We're lucky," Tata said later. "What if they'd demanded their pay now?"

     

    G ERMANICUS INSPIRED THE MUTINEERS --A GRIPPINA DID TOO, EVEN Mother admitted that. Hard as it was for me to understand, Caligula, too, was a favorite. He'd been born in an army camp, worn army boots, and drilled with troops when he was still a toddler. Caligula meant "little boots." Now hardly anyone remembered that his real name was Gaius.
    Within the week, rumors that German forces were moving closer rallied the men. It was decided that we women should be sent some forty miles away to the small village of Cologne. Our two families were quartered in what had once been an inn--much too small for so many of us. I hated our cramped, dusty quarters. I hated not knowing what was happening at the front. I missed the sea. Any possible view of the Rhine was obscured by thick pines that surrounded us on all sides, cutting off the sun's weak