Thunder of the Gods (12 page)

‘What a fine display! Don’t you think so, Legatus? Roman military prowess at its most impressive, and a fine advertisement for the superiority of the legion! Do your auxiliaries perform their drill that well, First Spear?’

Julius, who had watched the display in silence, replied with a commendably straight face.

‘I very much doubt it, Tribune. My men have been a little too preoccupied with fighting actual battles to spend much time working on the finer points of drill and hitting each other with bits of wood, sir.’

Umbrius frowned, taken aback by the subtle rebuttal.

‘You didn’t tell us that your men had combat experience, Legatus?’

Scaurus smiled thinly.

‘I don’t recall you asking the question, Tribune, but since the matter of my men’s combat experience has finally arisen, I’ll allow my first spear to list the Tungrian cohorts’ recent battle honours.’

Julius spoke without taking his eyes off the legion’s ranks.

‘We fought off ten thousand barbarians at the start of the recent revolt in Britannia …’ He nodded at his colleague Quintinus’s raised eyebrows. ‘We had some luck, and after that it was mostly down to carefully chosen ground, sound motivation …’

He smiled grimly.

‘That and the fact that there was nowhere to run. We’ve fought four other major engagements in Britannia, and a number of other skirmishes, sieges of barbarian fortresses, that sort of thing.’

He paused for a moment, and Umbrius drew breath to speak.

‘Then there was Germania, hunting bandits, dirty fighting for the most part although we did kill a few hundred of them once we got down to it. And Dacia, putting a Sarmatae tribe back in their place. And a small army of German auxiliaries too, when they decided to mutiny and take over a gold mine which the legatus here had been detailed to secure.’

He paused, pointing out across the parade ground.

‘It seems your horsemen are ready to perform.’

The legion first spear stared at him for a moment before turning to the trumpeter. At the signal the legion’s one-hundred-and-twenty-strong horsemen cantered proudly into the open space in front of the legion’s line of cohorts, and Julius grinned at the sight of half a dozen centurions wielding their vine sticks at men they suspected to be the source of clearly audible ribald comments aimed at the cavalry.

‘Your squadrons of horses seem to be pretty much up to strength.’

Tribune Umbrius nodded in silence, doing his best to ignore his new legatus’s questioning look. Julius stared out at the horsemen, nodding appreciatively.

‘And well drilled, from the look of things.’

Umbrius leaned forward again.

‘Indeed so, First Spear. They routinely train with our resident Phrygian cavalry wing, the governor’s own bodyguard. Their prefect is a proper Roman gentleman, and a master horseman to boot.’

‘And the governor has taken them under his wing, so to speak?’

Umbrius laughed at Scaurus’s joke.

‘Very good, Legatus, a wing under his wing. Yes indeed, and he takes a close interest in their being fully manned and equipped.’

Scaurus smiled back at him.

‘I’m sure he does.’

The cavalrymen were performing a flawless demonstration of horsemanship. Having expended their spears at a row of man-sized targets, with an accuracy that had Julius nodding appreciatively, they drew bows from the cases strapped to their saddles and proceeded to ride at the targets, one squadron at a time, loosing one arrow before turning their horses about, another shot loosed over each rider’s shoulder demonstrating the same expertise as the previous arrow.

‘The Phrygian’s prefect has had his men practising shooting from the saddle for most of the year. That last little trick is called—’

Scaurus spoke without taking his eyes off the cavalrymen.

‘A Parthian shot. The Phrygian’s wing’s prefect and I have clearly been reading the same books. Ah, it seems that the display is complete. Shall we go and inspect the men?’

Quintinus raised an eyebrow.

‘It’s more usual for the legatus simply to address them from his horse, Legatus.’

Scaurus shrugged.

‘Everything changes, First Spear. And I’m not much of a man for following rules whose point I struggle to comprehend.’

He dismounted and strode out onto the hard, sandy surface, heading straight for the cavalrymen in their place on the line’s right. Dismounted, each man stood by his beast’s head, their weapons and equipment as carefully presented as their infantry colleagues.

‘You put on an impressive show, Decurion.’

The senior squadron commander saluted crisply.

‘Thank you Sir. We practise daily with—’

‘The Phrygian wing. Yes, First Spear Quintinus mentioned it. I’ll have to meet with their prefect, he sounds like a good man.’

‘He is, sir, a real soldier if you take my meaning …’

He dried up under Quintinus’s scrutiny, but Scaurus nodded.

‘I take your meaning well enough, Decurion. My congratulations on your turnout.’

He walked along the line of infantrymen, looking hard at each cohort in turn with Quintinus following him in bemused silence. Once he had reached the Tenth Cohort’s place at the far end, he turned about without a word and made his way back to the point where the men of the missing Sixth Cohort would have stood, glancing at the First Spear.

‘Here will do.’

Clearing his throat, he raised his voice to be heard across the silent parade ground.

‘Soldiers of the Third Gallic! You have presented a flawless display of your martial prowess! Your testudo was swiftly formed, and resisted the attacks of the forces opposing you. Your formation-keeping was precise, and the manner in which you went about your mock battle was fearless and decisive. You are to be commended for living up to the high standards that have been set by your legion since it was formed by the Divine Julius Caesar himself, serving under such inspired generals as Marcus Antonius, Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo and the divine Titus Flavius Vespasian! Indeed it was this legion’s decisive role at the battle of Bedriacum that assured that most august emperor’s claim on the imperial throne!
’

He paused, looking up and down the ranks of solemn-faced soldiers.

‘The Third Gallic has been an essential part of Roman rule in this province for almost two hundred years, and I have every expectation that you will continue to show our enemies that Rome is not to be treated with anything other than the greatest respect! Soon we will be marching east, tasked by our emperor with the responsibility to teach some uppity Parthian king or other that while our empire’s rule is beneficent, our anger when roused is truly a thing of terror. You men and I will put right a wrong that has been done to our brother soldiers, and in doing so make our borders safe for another hundred years! But for now …
’

He paused again, forcing himself to grin wolfishly.

‘For now, you have earned a little free time!
’

Men were nudging each other in the cohort’s front ranks in anticipation of the words they so badly wanted to hear.

‘The rest of the day will be treated as free time for anyone without essential duties to perform. Make sure that you’re in a fit state for sunrise tomorrow, but make the most of this reward for your excellent performance!
’

He turned to Quintinus.

‘Dismiss your men, First Spear. And take the afternoon off yourself, along with your centurions. First Spear Julius and I will look after the guard rota.’

Julius walked across to join his superior officer once Quintinus had saluted and marched away, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

‘The Tungrian cohorts aren’t included in your generosity, Legatus?’

Scaurus nodded with a crooked smile.

‘I don’t think that would be wise. Antioch may be a big place, but the odds are good that our boys would end up nose to nose with those soldiers, and given that they know the city and our men don’t, it might very well get ugly. I don’t want to risk putting them together in the presence of drink and women until they all know each other a little better. And you might want to warn your men that tomorrow morning’s parade is likely to be followed by something a bit more strenuous than a morning’s sword drill and
wrestling
.’

Julius saluted and turned away to supervise the Tungrians back to their morning exercise, his place promptly being taken by the senior tribune who had been waiting behind him.

‘Well said, Legatus, if I might be allowed to offer a congratulation on your oration? I had no idea the legion’s reputation was so strong—’

Umbrius’s eyes narrowed with surprise as Scaurus shook an exasperated head.

‘Reading, Tribune, is a powerful way to find out things you don’t know. And the Third Gallic, for your more complete information, were indeed formed by the blessed Julius, in Gaul, logically enough, but they ended up on the wrong side in the wars that followed his death. Once Marcus Antonius had killed himself after Actium they were sent here by the emperor Augustus as punishment for taking the wrong side in the civil war. And the reason the legion was so instrumental at Bedriacum was that, being an eastern legion, they stopped fighting to greet the sunrise with a salute, which Vitellius’s men mistook as a signal to reinforcements from the east, causing them to lose the will to fight. The history of the Third Gallic, Tribune, is the same mixture of bravery, disaster, stupid mistakes and blind luck that every other legion parades as its claim to eternal glory. Including, on occasion, that old favourite …’

He turned away, barking his last words over his shoulder.

‘Pernicious fraud!’

‘Does everyone have a cup?’ Scaurus looked around his officers, raising his wine in salute. ‘Here’s to audacity, gentlemen.’

With the legion busy enjoying itself in the wine shops and brothels of the city, the legatus had gracefully accorded his senior officers the same privilege, knowing that he could count on them to indulge themselves in similar fashion to their men, thereby giving him the opportunity to meet with a select group of men he knew he could trust to plan their next steps. The officers sitting around him lifted their drinks and echoed the toast.

‘Audacity!’

Cotta sipped at his wine appreciatively.

‘Two of the reasons that I like you, Legatus, are because you serve damned good wine and because you know when to take risks. I presume our toast means that you have a little more risk taking in mind?’

Scaurus nodded, looking around him at the faces of his men.

‘It’s clear enough that the governor intends to thwart me in any way that presents itself to him. And if he knew the contents of the report I’m intending to send back to Rome regarding the state of the province’s defences, he would promptly redouble those efforts. If he has his way then we will march east with no hope other than that our deaths will be swift and honourable.’ He looked around at the gathered officers.

‘And speaking for myself, I have no plans to meet my ancestors for a good while yet. So, each of you is here for a reason, each man with a role to play in ensuring that when we march east we go equipped to conquer whatever it is that’s waiting for us beyond the Euphrates. Julius.’

‘Legatus?’

‘We don’t have time to turn the legion’s men into thirty-mile-a-day marching animals, but we do have time to find out which of them have the potential. And you don’t have the time to make them very much more proficient with their weapons, but you can assess who’ll be confident enough to use their spears and swords when the time comes. You’ve got a week, no more, and then we’ll make the decision as to who we take east and who we leave here for the governor to play at soldiers with.’

The first spear nodded, and Scaurus switched his gaze to Cotta.

‘You, Centurion, I need to find out which of the legion’s centurions can be trusted when the going turns nasty. I want a list, no more than a week from now, of who you believe we can trust to keep their nerve when the arrows start flying. And who we can trust, full stop. I’ve no intention of taking any of Domitius Dexter’s men with me, if I can avoid it.’

Cotta smiled back at him.

‘As you wish, Legatus. Although First Spear Quintinus isn’t going to like you picking and choosing from his officers.’

The legatus shrugged.

‘First Spear Quintinus isn’t going to have any choice in the matter. Dubnus …’

The hulking centurion stiffened in his seat.

‘Legatus.’

‘You, Centurion, I need for the sheer brute force possessed by your axe men. The Tenth Century will be the muscle power that drives our most effective weapons. And you, Qadir …’

‘Legatus?’

Where Dubnus’s voice was a bass growl, the Hamian’s lightly accented response was smooth, almost cultured.

‘You, and your archers, will take that muscle power and deliver it to the places where it will have the maximum impact.’

Qadir inclined his head in respectful acknowledgement.

‘Avidus.’

The African engineer nodded briskly.

‘You and your men are our experts at making things, or at least that was the story you told me when I was debating whether to agree to Julius’s brazen plan to bribe you and your century out of the transit barracks at Rome.’

He passed the centurion a wooden writing tablet, which Avidus opened and perused, his eyebrows rising at the list’s contents.

‘I need you to get me all of these items. Make them, or have them made in the city’s workshops, borrow them or steal them, I care little as long as they’re ready on time.’

‘In a
week
, Legatus?’

‘In a week, Centurion.’

The pioneer officer pursed his lips.

‘Ox hides by the thousand, linen by the mile, iron – a
lot
of iron – enough wood to build a battleship. It won’t be cheap, sir, and getting it done that quickly will just make the merchants and smiths greedier than they usually are.’

Scaurus pointed a hand at the chest that occupied one corner of his office, the reason why the Tungrians mounted a heavy guard around and inside the building both night and day.

‘I know. You’ll have all the gold you need.’