The Legion

CHAPTER TWENTY

Five days later Cato and Macro were standing to one side of the makeshift parade ground outside the temple complex. It was late in the afternoon and the regular breeze that swept in from the desert was swirling the dust kicked up by the First Cohort of the legion as it tramped round the circuit, laden with full kit and marching yokes. A number of men had already collapsed from exhaustion and had been hauled aside to recover in the shade of Karnak's outer wall. The stragglers were being driven on by the centurions and optios Macro had selected to act as his drill instructors. Some of them had served in other legions and still clung to the hard-won values that had been instilled before they were posted to Egypt. They shouted abuse and threats at the legionaries, and used their sticks freely to spur the men on.

Macro regarded the scene fondly. 'Like old times. Nothing I like better than getting the men ready for battle.'

'Nothing?' asked Cato with an amused expression.

'All right, there's wine and there's women too. I'm not that picky. Find me a boozy, belligerent Amazon and I'll die a happy man.'

Cato laughed and then turned his attention back to the exhausted men as they paced past the two officers. 'What is the condition of the First Cohort?'

Macro rubbed his chin. 'Most of the men are sound enough. They struggled on the first two days, but they've rediscovered their marching boots. They're ready for the campaign. Battle drill is another matter.'

'Oh?'

'The sword skills are there. They've had regular weapons practice at least. The trouble is that some of the formations are shaky. When I tried each century on forming a testudo there were gaps wide enough to drive a battering ram through. Looked more like an upended colander than a bloody tortoise. They're getting better though, now that I've turned my best officers on them.'

'What about the others?' asked Cato. 'Are some of the officers still claiming to be excused duties?'

Macro nodded sourly. 'When I told 'em to join the men this morning, they refused. I gave them the order, and at once that fat git, Aescher, went straight to Aurelius and asked that he and the others be excused.' Macro discreetly pointed out the officers sitting in the shade of a small shrine at the far end of the parade ground. 'They came straight back with their permission in writing.'

A slave stood to one side cooling them with a large fan made from woven palm leaves while some women from the camp followers sat on their laps and laughed playfully as the officers fondled them. Macro sniffed. 'Smug bastards.'

'Quite,' Cato agreed. 'It does the men no good to see their officers sitting it out. And that includes us. I think we need to set an example, Macro.'

'What did you have in mind, sir?'

'Have all the officers issued marching kit tomorrow morning, whether they are excused from drilling or not. You and me included. And also, find Hamedes and have him join us.'

'Hamedes?' Macro smiled. 'I haven't seen him for days. Bloody little drill dodger.'

'He asked me for permission to visit the local temples. He says he knows some of the priests here and is looking for a position once the campaign is over.'

'And he's doing this while on the payroll as a scout, I take it.'

'Naturally.'

'Then he'll have to earn his pay. I'll march him on to the parade ground myself tomorrow morning.' Macro rubbed his hands at the prospect. 'What kind of drill did you have in mind?'

'A route march down the Nile for the First Cohort. We'll have the legion's senior officers, and Hamedes, at the head of the column where the men can see us, and be sure to let the drill instructors know that the officers are not to be given any slack.'

Macro stared at him with an amused expression. 'What do you hope to achieve?'

'Think of it as an experiment in winnowing. Let's see if we can separate the chaff from the men.' Cato folded his arms and turned his attention back to the men of the cohort again. 'What about the other cohorts?'

'A similar picture. The cohorts led by good officers will be ready as soon as they've had a few more days of hard drilling. The problem units are the Seventh and Ninth Cohorts. They're commanded by cronies of Aurelius.'

'Then add them to tomorrow's route march. The other cohorts can be exercised over the following days.'

'Yes, sir.' Macro grinned briefly. 'What about the auxiliary units?'

While Macro had been put in charge of drilling the legion, Aurelius had ordered him to leave the drilling of the auxiliary cohorts to their prefects. Cato still had oversight of the process. He took a weary breath.

'Both of the infantry cohorts are in fair shape. Their prefects are looking for a chance to prove themselves and win advancement. So they've kept their men on their toes. The Syrian mounted cohort is first class. They know how to look after their horses and they manoeuvre well. The Alexandrian mounted cohort is a different matter. They have something of a superior attitude and their prefect seems to think they are the direct descendants of Alexander's Companion Cavalry. They drink hard and the discipline is a little sloppy. No question of their elan though. I just hope that they last the distance when the army marches. Then they'll have a chance to live up to their self-regard.'

'Or they'll discover that they're a bunch of gutless worms and bolt from the battlefield.'

Cato shrugged uncomfortably. Both men were silent for a moment before Macro continued. 'Any luck with the new legate on the planning front?'

'No. He still refuses to consult me. I've asked him when he intends to lead the army out of Diospolis Magna and he just says we will take the field when the situation is propitious.'

'Propitious?' Macro mused.

'He refused to clarify when I asked him. The thing is, he had better give the order soon, or the enemy will have free run of all the province between here and the cataract. They've already advanced on Ombos. The last report from the garrison there was that the Nubians were about to place them under siege. Even then, Aurelius refused to move.'

'Sounds like our glory-hunting commander is developing cold feet.'

'Perhaps.' Cato did not feel comfortable criticising his commander. In truth he had begun to discover the vulnerability of his position over the last few days. His promotion had elevated him to a position where he should share some responsibility in determining the course of a campaign. Before the suppression of the revolt on Crete, he and Macro had been junior enough simply to be told where to go and who to fight. The strategy was largely determined by other men of higher rank, and officers like Macro and Cato were left to execute their orders. Now, Cato had both rank and experience of command, yet he was still regarded as too fresh-faced or, worse, regarded as too ambitious. How else could someone of his years have advanced to his rank without being ruthless in his ambition? It was a question that those who perceived him as a rival would ask in order to justify their lack of cooperation. It was a double-edged burden, Cato decided, especially as he had never actively pursued elevation to his present rank. It had been conferred on him by those who had valued his achievements in the past. The envy of men like Aurelius would prevent him from providing the best service he could to Rome, and at the same time they would willingly do him down to maintain their own prestige.

With the death of Candidus, Aurelius was the most powerful man along the Nile south of Memphis. If Aurelius was against him then the only course through which he might pursue a complaint was through Governor Petronius in Alexandria. Cato had no patrons in the province. His nearest friend with any influence was Senator Sempronius in Crete – assuming Sempronius had not already relinquished his temporary control of the island and was on his way back to Rome. Cato was on his own, he realised. If he was to have any influence over the direction of the campaign, then he must find a way of working round Aurelius's prejudices towards him. Maybe this was the real test of those promoted to high rank. No longer was he being judged purely on the basis of his talent as an instrument of war. The time had come when political skills were every bit as vital.

'Ah, my chief training officer!' Aurelius greeted Cato as the latter approached his desk at the end of the pool. Torches flickered in brackets attached to the columns and lit up the space with a golden hue. Outside, the sun had just set and the red sky reflected on the surface of the water. Cato hoped that it was not an ill omen for the campaign as he stood erect in front of the legate's desk.

'What can I do for you, Tribune?' Aurelius leaned back in his chair.

'It concerns a training matter, sir. If you recall, you said that I would have complete authority in matters relating to preparing the men for the coming campaign.'

'Yes, I did,' Aurelius replied warily. 'Subject to my ultimate approval, naturally.'

'Of course, sir.'

'Well? How are things proceeding?'

'The soldiers are steadily improving and given time they will be in good shape once the campaign begins. It would help to know when you intend the army to march, sir.'

'Of course.' Aurelius nodded, and gestured towards the sheets of papyrus on his desk. 'As you can see, the need to prepare the men is not the only consideration affecting my decision. There are conflicting reports on the location of the enemy. Rumours are rife. Some say that Prince Talmis is no more than fifty miles away. Others say that he is still camped outside Ombos, besieging the garrison there. The overall picture is very uncertain, Tribune.'

Cato was not surprised. Since the ambush of the previous legate's column, Aurelius had restricted the range of his patrols to within half a day's march of the army's base at Diospolis Magna. Any intelligence of the enemy's movements beyond that margin depended upon questioning travellers or those fleeing the Nubians, and the truth had to be filtered out from rumours and wild speculation.

'It appears that the enemy have rather greater numbers than I thought,' Aurelius continued. 'So I have sent a request to the governor for reinforcements before we proceed.'

'Reinforcements?' Cato raised his eyebrows. 'Sir, when I last spoke with the governor he was adamant that every man that could be spared had been sent here.'

'There is always a way to find more men,' Aurelius responded dismissively. 'In any case, I do not ask for a vast host with which to overwhelm my enemy, merely enough to ensure the job is done well. Until then, it would be imprudent to proceed, even though I am straining at the leash to get to grips with those Nubians.'

Cato briefly wondered if he had ever met so supine a hunting dog. He thrust the thought aside and cleared his throat. 'Sir, it is possible that the enemy are also using this time to call on reinforcements. In any case, the longer they remain on Roman soil the greater the damage they do to the province. The natives are bound to feel resentment that they have been left to the mercy of the invader.'

'All part of the exigencies of war, alas.'

Cato could see that this line of argument would not be productive, and so switched his tactics. He nodded thoughtfully before he continued. 'Something occurs to me, sir.'

'Oh?'

'While I understand your prudence in delaying the opening of the campaign, other men far removed from this theatre of war will wonder at the delay.'

'Only because they lack full understanding of the circumstances,' Aurelius countered.

'Yes, sir. But that will not stop them muttering. My chief fear is that Governor Petronius will anticipate the musings of such men and be concerned lest he be thought to have sanctioned your inaction, as he might see it. When your request for reinforcements arrives, I fear that it may spur the governor's anxiety that the campaign is not being fought to a swift conclusion. Anxiety was ever the enemy of sound judgement, sir. What if the governor felt impelled to replace you with a commander less inclined to prudence? Some hothead who would lead the army in a wild dash straight at the enemy, with little thought.'

Aurelius stared directly at Cato. 'That could lead to disaster. I see what you mean. And there's no shortage of ambitious men in Alexandria who will regard me with envy now that the fates have elevated me to command of the army.' He nodded. 'Men like that thug Decius Fulvius. He's always looked down on me. The thought of that fool being placed in charge of the campaign is frightening.'

'Yes, sir. It is your duty to make sure that the governor has no excuse to send such a man to take command of the army.' Cato did not mention that it was more than likely that Fulvius was still attached to the force in Crete.

'Yes… Yes, it is my duty,' Aurelius nodded. 'Damn, I should never have sent that request. It's too late now.' He closed his eyes and made a quick calculation. 'It will take at least another two days for the message to arrive. Perhaps a day for the governor to react and then five days to send a reply.' He blinked. 'I must move fast. The army must be on the march before any reply can reach Diospolis Magna. Within the next seven days. I must consult my staff.' Aurelius paused, and then looked again at Cato. 'I must apologise. You were here to discuss a training matter, I believe.'

'Yes, sir. It concerns the officers of some of the cohorts. They have been avoiding the unit exercises and drills.'

'That's right. They have other duties to attend to. I gave them permission.'

'So they said. However, once the campaign begins, every legionary and every officer must be able to keep up with the column. We cannot afford to have any men slowing us down, sir. Officers included. As you just pointed out, the legion must march soon, and strike decisively. You cannot permit those officers who are infirm or unfit to hold you back.'

'You're right,' Aurelius agreed quietly. 'They must be made ready for the campaign. They must join their men in the training. I will not allow them to be excused from now on. Is that clear, Tribune? All officers will take part.'

Cato nodded.

'Was there anything else?'

'No, sir. That's all.'

Aurelius regarded him for a moment before he continued. 'Thank you, Tribune Cato. You are a most useful sounding board. It seems there's something more to you than meets the eye.'

It was clear that he had concluded their interview and Cato bowed his head and turned to leave the legate's presence. Only once he had passed through the entrance and entered the colonnade where some of the clerks still laboured at their desks did he permit himself a small smile of satisfaction.