or three years with the army to shape him up, or get him out of trouble, or away from bad companions. Usually at the end of his term the Tribunus Laticlavius went home to a magistrate’s position, and a rich wife.
The emperor turned to the legionary commander. “Is he a good soldier, Aulus Majesta?”
The legionary commander nodded. “The best, Caesar. He came to us like they all do—green, and wet behind the ears—but unlike the others I’ve had to put up with in my career, Flavius Drusus has been eager to learn. He was to stay on until one of my other tribunes retired in another year. Then I planned to move him up in the ranks.” He looked down at the young man, pale with his injury. “What a pity, Caesar. He’s a good officer, but I can’t have a tribune with a gimpy leg, now can I.” It wasn’t a question.
Claudius was tempted to ask Aulus Majesta what a man’s gait had to do with his ability to make good military decisions, but he refrained from it. His own limp, and stammering speech, had made him a laughingstock his whole life. He had been considered unfit for anything, even by his own family. But when his dreadful nephew, Caligula, had been murdered and deposed, the army had turned to him to rule Rome. Claudius was more aware than most of the disadvantage Flavius Drusus faced. Prejudice of any kind was difficult to overcome.
“You must be rewarded for saving my life,” he said firmly.
“I but did my duty, Caesar!” the young tribune protested.
“And in doing so you have lost your military career,” the emperor replied. “What will happen to you when you return home? You have nothing, being a younger son. In saving my life you have, in a sense, lost yours, Flavius Drusus. I would be unworthy of the noble tradition of the Caesars if I allowed such a thing. I offer you one of two choices. Think carefully before choosing. Return to Rome with honor, if you desire. I will give you both a noble wife and a pension for all of your days. Or, remain here in Britain. I will give you lands that will be yours and your descendants’ forever. I will also settle a sum of money upon you that you may build a home.”
Flavius Drusus thought a long moment. If he returned to Rome, noble wife or not, he would be forced to live in his father’s house, which would one day be his eldest brother’s house. His pension would probably not be enough for him to buy his own home. The noble wife would be some younger daughter with little of her own. How would they dower daughters, or successfully launch their sons’ careers? If he remained in Britain, however, he would have his own lands. He would not be beholden to anyone. He would found a new branch of his family, and with hard work become a rich man in his own right.
“I will stay in Britain, Caesar,” he said, knowing that he had made the right decision.
“And that,” Titus Drusus Corinium told his children in the summer of A.D. 406, “is how our family came to this land some three hundred and sixty-two years ago. The first Flavius Drusus was still alive when Queen Bodicea revolted against Rome. Though the town of Corinium, where he had settled, was not touched by the revolt, he realized then that perhaps our family would be better served by making alliances with the local Celtic tribes rather than by sending for Roman wives. So his sons married into the Dobunni tribe, and the sons and daughters who came after that have intermarried with both Celts and Roman Britons until this day.”
“And now Rome is leaving Britain,” Titus’s wife, Julia, said.
“Good riddance!” her husband answered. “Rome is finished. The Romans just don’t have the good sense to realize it. Once Rome was a great and noble power that ruled the world. Today it is corrupt and venal. Even the Caesars are not what they once were. The Julians died out long ago, and in their place have come a succession of soldier-emperors, each backed by a different set of legions. You children know that in your own short lifetimes the empire has been split, with Britain and Gaul being broken away, and then patched back again. There is even an eastern empire now, in a place called Byzantium. Better we Britons be rid of Rome