Thunder of the Gods (19 page)

‘You’ve had one coin. And since you think I’m already a dead man I’m suddenly feeling no need to pay you the rest. After all, you’ll find it hard to collect unless you’ve got a trading route into the underworld.’

His younger comrade wagged a disapproving finger that, combined with the threat of the scout’s confiscated knife, made the trader’s bodyguard settle back into his seat before his attempt to challenge the Romans had progressed far beyond the thinking stage. The Arab raised the single gold coin that he’d received earlier.

‘But this is—’

‘Barely enough to cover the women we’ve spent the night with and the wine we’ve drunk? In truth, the women weren’t up to much, I’d say you’re working them too hard. And I’ve drunk better wine. So that’s all you’re getting, friend. Make the most of it, unless you’d like your teeth putting down your throat as well. No offence intended, I’m just stating the facts as
I
see them.’

The lamps had long since been lit in the legion’s headquarters by the time Scaurus’s officers gathered to discuss the plan for the next morning.

‘Matters are progressing a little faster than we might have preferred. Before I outline my intentions, I think we ought to review our progress with the various items of equipment and …’

Scaurus fell silent as his clerk stepped into the room, listening as the man spoke quietly in his ear.

‘Really? What excellent timing. By all means have him brought in.’

The gathered officers turned to the door, watching as the duty centurion came through it followed by two soldiers who had a third man between them, his hands tied behind his back and a black hood over his head.

‘Greetings gentlemen! What do you have for me under there?’

Scaurus watched as Sanga pulled off the captive’s hood to leave him blinking in the lamplight.

‘This is the man, Legatus. He was stupid enough to start quacking on about having seen the Parthians having a go at our lads over the border.’

He dropped a purse onto the desk in front of Scaurus.

‘We was going to pay five in gold for him, but the man we used to find him made the mistake of thinking he could piss on us without getting some of it back when the wind changed direction. So we only paid him one.’

Scaurus nodded, looking at his men with a wry smile.

‘Which, speaking of urine, seems mostly to have been spent on entertainment, from the look of you both. Well done once more, gentlemen. You’d better go and sleep it off. I think there are enough officers in the room that this man would deeply regret any attempt to run.’

The captive said nothing, but as he looked about him he seemed to sag slightly. Scaurus stood, walking over to him and looking him over in silence for a moment before speaking in Greek.

‘So you were present when my cohort was destroyed, were you? Or rather you were doing your very best not to be present, eh? You’re the scout who went east of the Euphrates with my men and came back without them?’

The leather-faced Arab stared back at him without speaking, and Julius tapped the vine stick resting on the table beside his wine cup with a questioning expression.

‘I may not speak Greek, but I can recognise an uncooperative bastard when I see one. Should I beat it out of him?’

The legatus shook his head.

‘No, thank you, Julius. I think this one will respond better to a little psychology.’

Fixing the scout with a knowing smile, he sat back in his chair and addressed the man in Greek again.

‘You think I’m going to punish you for my men’s loss. So you think that if you stay silent and play dumb I’ll be forced to let you go.’ The scout’s look of incomprehension remained fixed. ‘I see. That’s a shame. I’d hoped not to have to resort to anything so crude, but if you’re not going to admit to your near perfect command of Greek, I shall simply be forced to pass you on to my legion’s centurions. They’re still more than a little unhappy about the way you made such a swift exit when the Parthians came for their comrades. They tend to frown on that sort of thing in a way I doubt you’d understand, although I’m sure you’ll get the point once they get to work on you. Presumably that’s why you’ve been hiding in the city’s slums all this time?’

The man looked down at him for a moment more before sighing deeply.

‘And if I admit to being the man you take me for, then you’ll execute me, yes?’

‘No.’

Shaking his head in disbelief, the scout folded his hands across his chest, but Scaurus simply looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

‘Why would I kill you? You were out there with the Sixth Cohort because you know that ground as well as you know the village in which you grew up, right? And you knew they were doomed from the moment you saw the enemy cavalry, not because of their numbers but simply because of the precise place in which the battle was to take place. That’s why you rode away and left them to it, because you saw no way that they could win the battle, given that ground.’

The scout nodded reluctantly.

‘And after you rode away, that entire cohort was massacred, just as you knew would happen.’

He stared up at the Arab with dispassionate eyes, watching the trickle of sweat that was running down the man’s neck until it sank below the line of his rough tunic, then leaned forward suddenly, making the man flinch at the speed of the movement.

‘I plan to take revenge for my men, and to do so I will need every one of the dice to be loaded in my favour when I throw them. I need the right men, with the best weapons, and I need them all to be arrayed on the best possible ground. And you, my friend, are my best chance to put their boots on that fated patch of earth. Whether
you
like it or not.’

He sat again, his gaze still locked onto the scout’s face.

‘I was going to offer you the choice, either to accompany my legion to the east or to suffer a death every bit as ignominious as theirs, but I’m not much of a man for cold-blooded murder. And besides, any promise you made under such a threat would be meaningless, wouldn’t it? You would promise me anything I asked for, and then the second my back was turned you’d be away like a rabbit, burying yourself back into the city so deep that we’d never find you. So I have a better idea.’

He pointed to Julius.

‘That is my first spear. The centurions you served with have been hard men, but fair. When you ran from the battle that destroyed my Sixth Cohort, their first spear allowed you to make your escape rather than put a spear in your back. Whereas Julius here is somewhat less forgiving.’

Julius growled something in the language of the Romans, his tone clearly uncomplimentary, and the legatus translated with a smile.

‘He says that he’s going to have you crucified if you so much as twitch in the wrong direction.’

He shook his head with a smile at the expression that had crossed the Arab’s face.

‘I know what you’re thinking. The first opportunity you get, you’ll just ride away from us, laughing as you once again show what fools we are. Except you should also meet this man. His name is Silus.’

The officer indicated simply smiled broadly.

‘He commands a squadron of cavalry whose only responsibility once we’re in the field will be to shadow you, night and day. And if you attempt to run, they’ll stake you out, open your guts and leave you for the carrion birds. There are thirty of them, more than enough for there to be a dozen or so of them around you all day. When you sleep they will watch you, and when you squat to empty your bowels they will be there to tell you just how badly your shit smells. Let us hope that you are a man capable of exercising self-restraint when it comes to …’

He made a circle of thumb and forefinger, moving it to and fro to the amusement of the officers.

‘Yes, you’ll be better protected than the emperor himself, with a dozen watchful men like Silus around you at all times. There will never be a moment when you run the slightest risk of harm. Isn’t that good to know?’

‘So, Legatus. Will it be the usual this morning? Weapons drill followed by a march?’

Scaurus shook his head, looking out across the parade ground at the legion’s assembled ranks as the soldiers reordered themselves after the customary prayer to greet the sun’s rebirth for another day. The legion’s senior officers were gathered to one side as usual, under the aegis of Tribune Umbrius, although he noted with a quiet smile that Varus was standing as far from the broad stripe tribune as he could without actually detaching himself from the group.

‘No, First Spear, this morning I have something different in mind. This morning I plan to march for Zeugma with my entire force, once the extra equipment I’ve had manufactured has been distributed to the men and loaded onto our carts.’

Quintinus gaped at him.

‘You intend to march … this morning?’

The legatus smiled beneficently.

‘It’s either that or wait for the governor to come down here and arrest me on a charge of deliberately acting to conceal the location of a fugitive from justice which, as I’m sure you can imagine, isn’t really a desirable outcome. Not desirable for me, and for that matter most certainly not desirable for the man who ordered me to relieve Nisibis. You may have seen his head on the coinage you’re paid with.’

‘But …’

Scaurus patted him on the shoulder.

‘No need to trouble yourself, First Spear,
you
won’t be coming with us. My own first spear is more than capable of running a half-strength legion, and one of his centurions can step into his shoes for the time being. Your place will be here, commanding the defence of what the governor has pointed out is a vital imperial trading city. All that remains for you to do, before I march my men out to battle on the emperor’s behalf, is to make some organisational changes.’

He motioned to Julius, who stepped forward and gestured to the waiting cohorts.

‘After yesterday’s weapons drills, we marked every man who my officers felt capable of standing up for themselves in a proper fight with a circle drawn in henna. And after the practice march, we marked every man who finished under a certain time with a cross, having allowed them to march at their own best speed rather than in cohorts.’

Quintinus nodded. The exercise had excited much comment among his men, with the strong rumour that anyone who gained both marks being granted a day’s holiday from duty resulting in a significant improvement in the numbers of men pushing themselves to keep up the marching pace.

‘Indeed. The men with both symbols on their hands have been strutting around like peacocks ever since.’

The legatus smiled.

‘I’m glad to hear it. If you’ll be so good, order every man who doesn’t have either mark to leave the parade ground.’

Quintinus frowned in incomprehension.

‘But what—’

‘All will become clear, First Spear. In the meantime, please just make it happen. Send the unmarked men back into their barracks if you like, but make sure any of them with the new shields leave them behind, will you?’

Still baffled, Quintinus strode out across the parade ground’s wide expanse, shouting commands to his cohort commanders. The men who had failed to meet Julius’s expectations in either regard walked away with grins at those who had performed better, while the remaining soldiers looked at each other with trepidation as to what might be happening. Quintinus made his way back to the legatus with a hard face, clearly having realised what was happening.

‘Thank you, First Spear. Now I need you to reorder all of the cohorts with the exception of my Tungrians and marines, retaining the First, Third, Eighth and Tenth, and feeding the remaining men into them to make up their numbers. Array them in four ranks, with the front two ranks to contain as many men with both marks as possible.’

‘Legatus, I—’

‘Now, First Spear.’

Quintinus stared at his superior for a moment and then stalked away to obey the command.

‘He’s not happy.’

Scaurus laughed softly, shooting a surreptitious glance at the increasingly perplexed Umbrius.

‘He’s going to be a lot less amused by the time I’m done. And he’s not the only one.’

With the remnant of the legion reshuffled into four more or less full-strength cohorts, Quintinus returned once more, his face now set in angry lines.

‘I see from your thoughtful expression that you’ve discerned my purpose, First Spear Quintinus. And yes, I am indeed moving a considerable number of men into the four best cohorts in the legion, those which traditionally contain the strongest and best soldiers. What I’m doing, Quintinus, is bringing all four of those cohorts as near to their full strength as possible. Each of them will have something close to the number of men that they would have had they not been reduced to half the manpower due to leave and other duties. I shall march north with those four cohorts, plus my own Tungrians as my legion’s new Fourth and Fifth Cohorts, and the marines as the new Second. Since they fall under the command of the emperor rather than the governor, I do not consider them to be under the constraints of his order.’

He waited with an imperturbable expression while Quintinus stared back at him with a look of angry consternation.

‘You plan to march with
seven
cohorts, Legatus?’

The first spear shook his head in apparent fury.

‘Including my best four cohorts?’

‘It’s really quite simple,’ Scaurus replied levelly. ‘I’m taking just about anyone from the remaining cohorts who actually knows how to handle a sword or has enough stamina to cover twenty miles in a day, and I’m putting them into the cohorts that are marching east, not just to bring them up to full strength, but to give them a fighting chance when we meet the Parthians in battle. Those men who will struggle on the march will be encouraged by their centurions and chosen men. Vine sticks and fists can be quite remarkable for helping a man to find stamina he didn’t know he possessed. And those men who have stamina, but who are yet to fully master their weapons, will have their opportunity for some intensive practice under battle conditions quite shortly, I expect. Do you have a problem with that?’