Athene's Prophecy (Gaius Claudius Scaevola Trilogy) (40 page)

When he reached within a hundred meters of the wall, he halted, and, as part of the ceremony, the loudest horns blew the ceremonial announcement of triumphal arrival. A horn response came quickly, and slowly the massive Jupiter gate opened, and before him were the colonnades of the Via Recta. He adjusted his helmet, then gave the signal to advance. As his horse commenced a slow trot, the
caligae
of the first cohort smashed into the stone. They had returned triumphal, and they would announce this to all.

As his horse carried him through the great arch, a great cheer rose up. He was surprised at first, then he noticed the remaining troops of the legion lining the way. They were cheering forcefully, for a triumphal march had two purposes: it celebrated the returning troops, and it intimidated any citizens who were not wholly devoted to the Roman cause. The general population also cheered loudly and wildly, and a few flowers came flying through the air towards Claudius. It was cheap to cheer, the noise put the Romans in a better mood, and the better a successful soldier felt towards a city, the better their lives tended to be. As he rode slowly along the street, Gaius felt proud. Here, on his second command, a little over 900 hundred men were escorting just under three thousand captives, and a considerable baggage train of silver and weapons. Behind him his soldiers marched steadfastly on, the iron discipline clear, but the look on each man's face left no doubt of the pride they felt. It was a moment he knew he would cherish as long as he lived, and he savoured every second of it.

Eventually he had to turn off the Via Recta and proceed towards the legionary headquarters. A sense of relief came over him. He had returned, successfully, and now he could bathe, and eat better food. Then he noted wryly that even his formal commander had turned out, but he was not in direct line. Before him was a new Governor, Publius Petronius, and Gaius had little doubt of the significance of the invitation to report to him rather than the Legate.

"So," Petronius eyed Gaius, when they had returned to the Governor's villa, and a cup of wine had been given to each, "you had a victory."

"The troops had a victory," Gaius replied.

"Yes, they did," Petronius nodded, "but you did too. Why didn't you pursue the enemy first up?"

"You disapprove, sir?"

"I didn't say that," Petronius snorted. "I wish to know why. Believe me, when I get around to disapproving, you will know it."

Gaius bowed his head slightly at the rebuke, and replied, "I was reasonably confident the Parthians would have the pass set as an ambush, and even if they didn't, was I going to pursue them across the desert into Parthia? Then was I going to fight my way back out? I doubt the
Princeps
would be too amused by my starting another war."

"You wouldn't be the first Roman to start a war all on his own," Petronius smiled, "although I concede one cohort would be a remarkably small strike force to work with."

"Anyway," Gaius continued, "I was certain they'd follow, and I preferred to fight on my terms."

"A bit arrogant," Petronius said impassively.

"I don't think I was . . ." Gaius started.

"You were," Petronius interrupted, "and that's good, if it's accompanied with thought. I gather when you started towards the oasis, the troops were a bit pissed off."

"Yes, sir," Gaius admitted.

"But not once the fighting started," Petronius smiled.

"I don't think they had time," Gaius replied.

"On the contrary," Petronius said, "once you had the enemy cavalry cut to pieces below you, and hardly a scratch on your troops, you had the men absolutely with you. Amongst other things, they like to win without getting hurt, and that only happens with a commander who knows what he's doing."

"Thank you, sir.'

"When you rode out on your first expedition, on your fine white horse, do you know what the men were thinking?" Petronius smiled.

"Another young stuck-up prat from a rich Roman family," Gaius admitted.

"What makes you think that?"

"The men told me," Gaius admitted ruefully.

"They did?" a surprised Petronius asked.

"Well, not exactly," Gaius admitted, "but I could see it on their faces."

"Well, they don't think that now," Petronius nodded. "You gained a lot of respect by handling the cohort the way you did, and you gained more by riding around while the battle was going on. Why did you do that? Curious to see death?"

"I wanted to see whether I had to deploy reserves," Gaius protested, "and I wanted to encourage the men. I didn't want them thinking I was lying around at the rear . . ."

"Good," Petronius nodded. "Another valuable reason for being visible is that nobody wants to be part of the line that gives way in front of their commander, so they fight that much harder, which is something like your second point." He paused, then added, "I gather you also joined in?"

"I'm a reasonable archer," Gaius replied, "and we'd reached a point where, unless something went wrong, we would win. Then it almost looked as if something could go wrong, so I sent in the last of my forces. There weren't very many of them, so . . ."

"It certainly made an impression on the troops," Petronius interrupted. "I gather most of your arrows struck home, and I also gather you got their leader."

"It seemed a good thing to do at the time, and . . ."

"Well, your men noticed, and that helped make them redouble their efforts. Getting wounded gained a lot of respect too, because you don't get that sitting on your arse at the rear. Don't let this go to your head, but your men are starting to compare you with somewhat more famous men."

"It could be a lot worse," Gaius replied in a slightly embarrassed tone.

"It probably will," Petronius snorted, "but in the meantime you seem to have shown some ability, and you also seem to be touched with flair or luck. Can't have too much of either. Now, time for you to reward your troops. In addition to your recommended decorations, you may announce
phalerae
for the entire cohort, and the cohort and auxiliaries may carry the honour of citizenship."

"Thank you, sir," Gaius said appreciatively.

"And you, young Claudius, will receive a
corona aurea
, to be worn additional to other
coronae
as a battle decoration."

"Thank you again, sir."

"And of course, the award of citizenship is worn by you as well. Yes, of course you're already a citizen, as are many of your soldiers, but the award shows you've earned it for your troops, and that and a battle crown will guarantee no troops will ever again think of you as some young stuck-up senatorial prat."

"I've got to admit that was a burden I'm glad to be rid of," Gaius nodded.

"You know why Vitellius sent you out?" Petronius asked. He smiled at Gaius' look of discomfort, then nodded and added, "You've been drilling your troops very hard. The others have been sniggering at them."

"I don't think that was too much," Gaius protested.

"Neither do I," Petronius nodded. "Me, I might have had even more. But that's not the point. Now your men will show their
phalerae
to the rest of the legion, and guess who will be feeling the best?" When Gaius said nothing, he continued, "I think a slight additional favour is due. Why don't you take your cohort up the Barada in the middle of summer. Drill them in forest and mountain skills."

"Forest skills?" Gaius queried. "I thought that desert fighting was more likely."

"It is, young Gaius," Petronius smiled, "but you probably haven't realized how stinking hot it gets around here in the middle of summer. It's much cooler up there, and there's a lake if you want to practice water assaults, or if you merely want to go swimming."

"I see," Gaius suddenly realized what was being offered. "On behalf of the men, thank you sir."

"That will give you even more respect, and make the men want to do even more for you next time," Petronius smiled. "That means I can afford to be more generous in using your services. Next time the Nabateans get out of hand, I'll send you down with maybe three cohorts. Do well then, and you could be on the way to a legion."

As Gaius left the Governor, he could have almost flown. A legion! Of course first there had to be a vacancy, but . . .

Chapter 33

Timothy had excelled. He had found three master craftsmen, and Gaius had in his hands three brass bolts with wing nuts. The nuts screwed easily onto their respective bolts, but only onto that bolt, and as Gaius noted wryly, two were left hand threads and one was a right hand one. They should all be the same.

Timothy quietly pointed out that these were difficult enough to make as it was.

"Not," Gaius replied quietly, "if we use one of these to make moulds to cast others."

"And what will you get to make the moulds?" Timothy asked caustically, "bearing in mind it has to be strong enough for you to get the master out without breaking the thread, and must stand the molten metal, and there can't be air bubbles in the thread marks?"

"Oh!"

"Oh?"

"I hadn't thought of that," Gaius admitted.

"I already asked one of the tradesman," Timothy admitted. "It's not easy to see the way around those problems."

"So what do we do?"

"The tradesmen will make them, for a price," Timothy said in a slightly shifty tone, "but they won't tell how they do it."

"Then haggle, and meet their final price," Gaius shrugged.

"This could be very expensive," Timothy pointed out. Gaius recognized an element of priming in Timothy's tone.

"I'm sure with a Greek haggling for me," Gaius smirked, "I'll get good value."

Timothy suddenly looked apprehensive, but then an idea seemed to occur to him. "I may not have much leverage," he said, "unless you don't need them."

"No choice," Gaius frowned, "unless you can think of one?"

"Depends on how many you want?" Timothy said cautiously.

"And what's that supposed to mean? What exactly do you know?" Gaius' eyes bore into Timothy. This conversation was, Gaius realized, quickly coming to its point, as seen by Timothy.

"Nothing, yet," Timothy quickly backed away.

"Then get to the point."

"If you want ten of these things, you'll just have to pay for them, but if you want thousands, and you want to know how to make them . . ." He paused.

"Why is it," Gaius mused, "that I suspect a cunning Greek scheme?"

"What I was going to suggest," Timothy said quickly, "was that you could offer a prize for the method. That way, you'd get everyone thinking about it, and . . ."

"I'd have the most expensive bits of metal ever," Gaius mused.

"Then buy what you need," Timothy shrugged.

"Twenty thousand sesterces," Gaius muttered. "Offer that."

"We'll get something," Timothy smiled to himself.

"I rather fancy you think you will," Gaius shook his head.

* * *

Gaius soon felt he was correct in his assessment of Timothy. He was some way away from the house where Timothy was living when he heard the sounds of raised voices. At first he hurried, thinking Timothy might need help, but as he got closer he realized that while he might need help, it was not the sort that Gaius would offer. That, however, did not stop Gaius from being curious.

He crept into the room, and immediately felt foolish. A herd of elephants could have strolled through without drawing attention to themselves. Timothy and one of the local craftsmen were crouched over a small bench. Timothy had one of Gaius' nuts forced into the end of a cleft stick, and he was using this as a lever to try to force the nut onto what seemed to be a highly bent rod made of lead. The other man was trying to clamp the other end of the lead rod onto the bench. As Gaius entered, the stick broke, and Timothy swore.

"What on earth are you doing?" Gaius asked in amazement.

Timothy looked up guiltily, the other man somewhat fearfully.

"It's my responsibility," Timothy conceded, "if I've spoiled this nut. I'll make it up to you, and . . ."

"I still don't know what you're trying to do?"

"Well," Timothy started. "What I thought was, if we had a nut made of hard metal, and screwed it onto soft metal, it would cut a thread. That way, one nut would make several bolts all the same."

"A whole lot of leaden bolts," Gaius nodded ruefully, "that melt when you least need it, and bend, and . . ."

"The bolts don't have to be made of lead," Timothy explained. "It's just that the cutting ridges have to be stronger than the rest."

"If this had worked," the tradesman said, "I'd get you one of these nuts made out of hard steel, that would cut brass, or maybe even iron."

"So you'd have a lot of bolts and no nuts," Gaius smiled.

"You could do the same with a bolt," Timothy pointed out. "Use it to bore out a thread in . . ."

"Yes, of course," Gaius nodded. He stared at Timothy. This could work! Then, back to earth, "So, what's wrong?"

"All he's done," the other man shrugged, "was fill the nut up with lead. Then it's jammed so tight it won't go anywhere."

"I undo it and clean that out," Timothy shrugged.

"About ten times a turn," the other man muttered, "and that's not the worst of it."

"And what is the worst?" Gaius asked. He was not quite sure what to do. This looked to be a silly idea, but Timothy was trying to help him.

"Look at the way he's cleaning that out? He's burring the ridges! Do you know how long it took to cut those? I tell you, this is . . ."

"You've been paid?" Gaius asked.

"Well, yes, but . . ."

"Then I wouldn't worry about it."

"Still no need to be stupid," the man grouched.

"Meaning?"

"He can get a little way before the lead sticks," the man said, as if to a simple child, "so if you get the lead out then, you can keep going."

"He wants to cut grooves inside the nut to let the lead out," Timothy explained, "but that would ruin the nut."