Legionary

Chapter 33

Gallus stood with Nerva in the murky dawn light, surveying the arsenal of armoured infantry formed up in front of him. Eighteen hundred limitanei legionaries — the three full cohorts of the legion — standing in polished order in white, purple-trimmed tunics and mail shirts. The tips of their intercisa helmets and spears fanned along the muster yard like the teeth of a predator, and the wall of ruby and gold oval shields, freshly painted for the mission, coated their front like the scales of a dragon. It had been years since the legion had been mobilised as one unit, and to see them together stirred pride in the heart. Together with five hundred auxiliary troops — wearing little or no armour and bearing irregular weapons such as axes, long swords and composite bows, two hundred Cretan archers and the near two thousand foederati cavalry led by Horsa, the Bosporus invasion force stood at a number of nearly four and a half thousand fighting men. A healthy number for what was supposedly an impoverished border legion. Under the surface though, the tell-tale signs of imperfection and inexperience seeped through, especially from the recruit-heavy first and second cohorts; oversized armour on the slender frames of the raw whelps, most of whom had no battle experience. Added to that, the third cohort had been filled out with vexillationes from neighbouring legions to bring her up to her full complement, and Gallus feared for how cohesive these cobbled ranks might be.

‘Feels good, eh?’ Nerva spoke. ‘We’re entering the field, like a proper army.’

Gallus knew what the tribunus wanted to hear, so he buried his doubts. ‘It’s been a long time, sir. It feels like we have been peeking over the fort walls for a lifetime.’

‘The cohorts are strong, just look at them. And the emperor has delivered with those archers, Gallus; those boys could hit a vole in the arse at a quarter of a mile.’

‘More men — a welcome surprise indeed,’ Gallus nodded. Nerva’s face was bathed in sweat, jowls trembling, but his eyes were like torches, alert and darting. The tribunus was excited, but he had to be reined back to reality.

‘Well we’ve got a loan of them at least until the mission is over,’ Nerva added. ‘Less than half of us will be true XI Claudia boys it seems!’

Gallus’ eyes narrowed. ‘And how does the foederati wing strike you, sir?’

‘Horsa and his boys?’ Nerva grinned. ‘Typical bloody Goths,’ he whispered, ‘but by Mithras we need them.’

‘Horsa’s a good man, sir. It’s just…the rest of them. They started some ruckus last night up at the inn.’

‘It’s in their nature, Gallus. In any case I’m sure our lads had some part in it,’ he nodded to Quadratus on the front row; the big blonde Gaul sporting a bandaged hand and a black eye. ‘I pity the bugger on the end of that fist,’ the tribunus winced. ‘Anyway, all units are formed up now?’

Gallus scanned the ranks quickly. All present and correct, save for one legionary still bustling into place in the first century. Pavo, he grimaced. ‘It appears so, sir.’

Nerva nodded. ‘Give the order to move out.’

Gallus turned and nodded to the aquilifer who held the legion’s eagle standard. The man lifted the standard and the ruby-red banner bearing the bull effigy fluttered in the breeze. Gallus gazed across his men, who held their chins up higher at this.

Felix sidled up next to his commander.

‘For the empire!’ Gallus roared, punching his clenched fist into the air and turning to the first century, who exploded into an ear-bursting cheer.

The cheering rippled to the centuries surrounding the first. Even the initially bemused Captain Horsa took to beating his spear against his shield and whipping his men into a frenzy of cheering.

Then the buccinas sounded three times.

Gallus’ blood raced. ‘XI Claudia, move out!’