Thunder of the Gods

5

‘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?’

‘But your written orders from the governor-’

‘Say that I am permitted to march for Nisibis with half of the legion’s strength. There are ten cohorts in the legion, First Spear, and I’m marching from here on my way to Nisibis with four of them. It seems like a fairly basic piece of arithmetic. I’d say I’m exceeding the governor’s instructions. I expect he’ll be appropriately appreciative.’

Quintinus shook his head.

‘But-’

‘No.’

The legatus’s voice cut him off with an abrupt force of personality that he’d chosen not to display since arriving in the city.

‘The trick with orders, First Spear, lies in the way that they are written and the way in which they can therefore be interpreted. I am ordered to march from here with, in terms I have committed to memory, “No more than half of the legion’s strength”. And so I shall, taking four full-strength cohorts to make up less than half of the legion’s theoretical manpower. After all, my orders made no mention of the words actual strength, did they? And I’m leaving you to defend the city with the Second, Fourth, Fifth and the Seventh cohorts. With the transfers I’ve just effected, you’ll be left with eight hundred men or thereabouts, more than enough to keep order in a civilised city like Antioch, I would have thought?’

Quintinus shook his head, unsure how he should present his objections to the orders scratched into the tablets’ waxy brown surfaces.

‘Legatus?’

Scaurus waved a dismissive hand at his broad stripe tribune.

‘A moment, Gabinus Umbrius. The first spear and I will conclude this discussion very shortly.’

Quintinus shook his head unhappily.

‘Legatus, with all due respect, this will leave me with only the youngest recruits and the oldest veterans to defend Antioch. That hardly seems fair to-’

‘To the people of the city? Or to you, First Spear? What precisely was it that you expected? That I’d be stupid enough to obey the orders of a vindictive and corrupt fool like Domitius Dexter? That I would happily march out of here with just enough men to raise a decent dust trail once I’m across the Euphrates, and bring the enemy down on me? After all, half of the legion’s actual spear count is barely fifteen hundred men.’

The senior attempted to interject a second time, his voice beginning to sound as much petulant as concerned.

‘Legatus?’

Scaurus waved his hand again without turning to look at the tribune, a smile twitching at his lips.

‘Indulge me a little longer, Gabinus Umbrius.’

Quintinus shook his head, his face a picture of bafflement.

‘But what if the Parthians get around you, cross the Euphrates and attack the city? Surely you can’t simply ignore the governor’s orders?’

‘Legatus!’

Scaurus turned to look at his deputy, his face suddenly dark with anger at the attempted note of command in his subordinate’s voice.

‘My patience with you, Tribune Umbrius, is at an end. First Spear Julius!’

Julius stepped forward with a grim face.

‘Legatus?’

‘Draw your sword. And if this young gentleman speaks just one more time without being invited to open his mouth, use it to behead him, here and now. The charge on which he will have been executed will become clear soon enough.’

Julius swept his sword from its scabbard with a hiss of oiled metal, raising the brightly polished iron to show the tribune the weapon’s edge, and Umbrius took a step backwards when he saw the absolute certainty in the first spear’s eyes that he would obey his legatus’s command. Scaurus turned back to Quintinus with a questioning look.

‘Now, you were saying? Ah yes, what if the Parthians get around my admittedly small force and attack the city? Surely the answer to that one is clear enough?’

He laughed hollowly.

‘All you have to do is order your men back from leave. Pull your detached units back into the city. And call back the soldiers you’ve set to making the countryside safe by hunting wild animals. That will more than double your manpower.’

He fell silent, staring implacably at Quintinus while the older man struggled for words. When he spoke again his voice was deceptively soft.

‘Except you can’t, can you? Because, First Spear, as we both know all too well, not very many of those men actually exist, do they?’

Silenced reigned for a long moment before he continued in the face of the first spear’s dumbstruck silence.

‘It has been evident to me from the first day of my command, First Spear, that something was deeply wrong with a legion that had so many men recorded as absent, especially as Quintus Magius Lateranus was careful enough to take his secretary with him when he left so suddenly, along with the set of legion records that would have exposed your fraud, leaving only the official version of the records for me to examine. It didn’t take me long to work out what was going on, of course, but I saw no value in accusing you of being responsible for the scheme since I was also pretty much convinced that it probably wasn’t directly of your making. To be brutally honest with you, First Spear, you’re neither brave enough nor stupid enough to have been the man responsible. You were clearly involved, but more by way of tolerating what was being done to your legion than an active participant. There had to be bigger men than you behind the whole thing.’

He turned and stared pitilessly at the tribune, nodding grimly as the man’s face went red.

‘Men like you, Gabinus Umbrius. Well-connected men with that sense of entitlement that seems to permeate so many of your class.’

He turned back to Quintinus.

‘But now it’s time for the truth. If I catch you lying to me one more time, First Spear, I’ll have you flogged to ribbons and executed on the parade ground this morning, with your legion watching you. You will die as a disgraced private soldier, your savings and property will be sequestered by the state in compensation for your theft, and your family, who you will never see again, will be thrown out onto the street.’

The first spear started, and Scaurus shrugged wearily.

‘Did you imagine that nobody knew about your little secret? Since it was clear to me that Lateranus and his cronies must have had some hold over you, I set a couple of my men to follow you on the day that I gave the legion a half-day’s holiday. They tracked you into the city, as a result of which I know enough about your illegal wife and child to understand how it was that you were forced to remain silent as your legion was bled dry. After all, Lateranus could have seen you dismissed in disgrace, with your property confiscated in its entirety, down to the last coin in your purse. You knew only too well what would happen to your family if you were suddenly rendered destitute, here in Antioch of all places. But now, of course, your loved ones pose you a different problem, not one of keeping silent, but rather one of speaking the truth, here and now. Because if you continue to keep the truth from me, I will have no option but to exact the punishment I’ve already described. I won’t take any pleasure in doing so, First Spear, but trust me, I will do what I have to.’

Quintinus had gone deathly pale, and could do no more than stare mutely at Scaurus, as the legatus rammed home his advantage.

‘So, First Spear, you have just one chance to tell the truth. Were you involved in the fraud I have uncovered?’

Quintinus straightened his back.

‘Yes, Legatus.’

‘How wise of you to admit it. So, how many men are genuinely absent with permission?’

‘No more than five hundred.’

Scaurus stared at him in disgust.

‘And how does this fraud work exactly?’

‘Two hundred men or so leave the legion every year, as they take their retirement. And Legatus Lateranus was a strict officer, dishonourably dismissing men from imperial service at any opportunity. And with every man’s retirement or dismissal, new names have been entered into the legion records as fresh recruits.’

‘False names?’

‘Yes, Legatus.’

The legatus looked across at Umbrius, who was now staring at the floor.

‘And their pay, the cost of equipping them and their rations goes straight into a few select purses. Did neither of you really think this would never come to light? You may speak, Tribune.’

The patrician’s voice had utterly lost its former superiority.

‘It was Legatus Lateranus’s idea. He believed that the Parthians are a broken enemy, commanded by a king so old and lacking in power that all of his attention will be given to simply holding onto his throne. He believed that we would get so much notice of any threat that recruiting and replacing the fictitious men with new recruits would be easy enough.’

Scaurus bellowed an order at the patrician, his voice snapping out with unaccustomed ferocity.

‘Stand to attention, Tribune!’

After a moment’s hesitation, Umbrius drew himself up into the brace position, and Scaurus walked across to stand behind his deputy, speaking quietly in his ear with an edge of menace whose barely controlled ferocity chilled even the men who knew him.

‘It was all Quintus Magius Lateranus’s idea? He’s to be the sacrifice on this particular altar is he? When my formal report goes to Rome, it’s to place the blame on Lateranus, is it? With you and the first spear here as his victims, unable to resist his authority, and no mention of Domitius Dexter.’

‘The governor had nothing-’

‘I grow weary of your lies, Tribune. The governor, as we both know only too well, had everything to do with it.’

The tribune’s eyes widened, and Scaurus shook his head in amused contempt.

‘You fool. You see a thin stripe on a man and immediately jump to the conclusion that he won’t understand your cosy little closed world, or comprehend you people and the less than endearing habit of a small proportion of you who always find a way to skim the cream off the top of whatever you’re given to manage, no matter how wealthy you might already be. Well here’s the shock news, Tribune – my family was senatorial until a century ago, and I can assure you that even in the depths of disgrace we never quite lost those links. My sponsor was the governor of this province before Gaius Domitius Dexter replaced him, and he knows all about your family. He told me how your appointment to the Third Gallic so soon after Domitius Dexter took over the province might have been mildly surprising were it not for the fact that your father also happens to be his best friend. So if the governor was here now, I’d be threatening him with exactly the fate that hangs over you.’

The tribune swallowed, suddenly pale.

‘You mean …’

‘I mean that you have two choices.’

Scaurus smiled thinly.

‘Two choices which are really only one, of course. You can of course return to Rome. I could try, convict and execute you myself, but I find the prospect of leaving you to take a ship back to the capital rather more amusing. You see, by the time you get there, you’ll find that the man who stands behind the throne will already have received my report on the matter of the legion’s woeful undermanning. I had Tribune Corvus dispatch it while he was on his way to Hama. The imperial chamberlain will in all probability already have started uprooting your family, and in a rather vigorous manner, if his track record is any indication. After all, and as I warned you, it is the chamberlain’s job to hate treason and love gold in equal proportions, so what better opportunity to exercise both of those responsibilities than to take the throne’s revenge for your crimes, and those of your uncle?’

‘And my other choice?’

‘I think you already know the answer. You have a sword, so fall on it. Or if you can’t raise the nerve to use a blade, buy yourself some poison or a venomous snake. This is, after all, Antioch, so I doubt the means of a more elegant suicide are in short supply. And now, Umbrius, you can get out of my sight. You’ll remain under arrest until after I’ve marched from this barracks, just to make sure you don’t go running to Domitius Dexter. After that, it really is up to you, although if I ever see you again I’ll take my own sword to you. Get out of my sight.’

He waited until the tribune had left the parade ground under the guard of a tent party of Tungrians led by Otho.

‘Let’s hope for his sake that he doesn’t try to use his authority on Otho, given that I’ve told the centurion that he’s to consider any such idiocy as an attempt to resist arrest. As for you, Quintinus, you’ve falsified the existence of over a thousand men. You do realise that the imperial authorities reserve some very special punishments for men who perpetrate fraud on this scale?’

The first spear hung his head.

‘I inherited the whole thing from my predecessor. Legatus Lateranus told me that I’d be very sorry indeed if I were to be foolish enough to cause any problems.’

‘I see.’

He stared at the senior centurion with a scowl.

‘You’ve been complicit with a fraud that has endangered the security of Rome’s frontier with the Parthians, and quite possibly condemned to death the men who have to march out tomorrow to confront the enemy. Since that includes both myself and First Spear Julius, I’d say that the idea of your treatment for this crime being a lenient one is not one that’s very much in favour with either of us.’

He turned and walked away a few paces, looking at the mountain that towered over the city.

‘I do, however, owe some small duty to the people of Antioch. You will continue in your role for the time being. You will commence a recruitment and training drive aimed at bringing your remaining four cohorts up to full strength, and raising at least one more with which to replace the Sixth. If I’m satisfied by your efforts on my return, I will consider some degree of extenuating circumstances for your crime. After all, it’s not as if you were the ring leader, or even given much of a choice in your complicity. Let me down in this and it’ll be the last mistake you make. Now go and muster your men, First Spear, you’ve got a job to do.’

The final change that Scaurus had ordered to the four cohorts’ organisation was enacted swiftly and without ceremony. Julius strode out before his new command and barked out a swift address.

‘My name is Julius, and for those of you who’ve been asleep for the last hour, I am your new First Spear! If you march and fight like men then you and I will get on well enough. If you fail to do either then you will find me at your back, with my boot, my vine stick or, if need be, with a fucking scourge. I expect some of you to disappoint me, but I only expect you to make that mistake once!’

He paused, looking up and down his cohorts with a grim face before pulling a tablet from his belt.

‘The following centurions, step forward!’

He read out half a dozen names, waiting until the men in question were standing in front him before pronouncing on their fate.

‘Following the advice of one of my centurions who knows most of you rather better than I do, I’ve decided that you’re better suited to assisting First Spear Quintinus here in Antioch than marching into Parthia with the legion. Dismissed.’

Unsure whether to be elated or dejected, the officers followed his pointing arm and walked away towards the barracks, while Julius addressed the remaining officers.

‘There are now precisely enough of you left to command every century in the four cohorts we’re taking with us, but none of you who are left in command have any reason to feel smug. Those were the men I judged least likely to cope with what we’re going to do in the next few weeks, but if I’d had another five good officers up my sleeve, another five of you would have been walking. Bear that in mind before you start relaxing. I’m watching you, and I will deal with any man who lets me down with the harshness you’d expect, given your importance to our effectiveness in battle.’

‘None of them look relax to me. All look like need good shit.’

Sanga nodded at his mate’s whisper, watching as a line of mule carts squeaked onto the parade ground.

‘This ain’t looking good.’

Julius walked over to the closest of the waggons, pulling back the canvas cover to reveal its load, and the veteran craned his neck to see what lay beneath.

‘It’s a pile of long wooden poles. What the fuck we going to do with those, fend the fuckers off?’

‘Silence!’

The growing rumble of muttered comments died away, and Julius lifted one of the poles from the cart to reveal the truth of the matter. Amazed, Sanga was unable to restrain himself.

‘I’ve already got to carry a shield that’s twice as heavy as it should be, and now they want me to prance about with a ten-foot spear! How the fuck am I supposed to throw that bastard thi-’

‘Silence! The next men to open his mouth without being asked to comment will receive five lashes, here and now! Today of all days you do not want to get on the wrong side of me!’

Julius composed himself before speaking again.

‘Front and centre, Legionary Sanga!’

His face reddening, the soldier marched forward and stamped to attention, knowing what was expected of him.

‘First Spear!’

Julius walked towards him with the outsized weapon held in both hands across his body.

‘You were saying, Legionary?’

Sanga swallowed, feeling a trickle of sweat running down the middle of his back.

‘I was-’

‘Louder, Sanga, let’s all hear what was on your mind.’

‘I was wondering, First Spear, how I could throw such a thing, but now you’ve brought it closer it looks a lot easier.’

The senior centurion looked at him with a pitying expression for a moment.

‘It’s not a throwing spear, you donkey, it’s a thrusting spear! Back in ranks!’

‘If I might have a word with the legion, First Spear?’

Scaurus waited for Sanga to return to his place before addressing his men.

‘Legionaries of the Third Gallic, this is a design of spear that goes back to the days before there was anyone with the leisure to sit and write down all of the battles and wars that are now only remembered in a handful of legends! It was used by the ancient Greeks in their successful wars with Persia …’

‘And when we kicked the shit out of them.’

‘And, as some of you are apparently speculating, when we overran Greece!’

Julius glared at Sanga so fiercely that Quintus turned round and flicked his vine stick out, rapping the hapless soldier on the side of his knee.

‘I won’t bore you with the reasons why a weapon will work under some circumstances and not others, but let me assure you, these spears are going to be a large part of the difference between life and death for all of us when we meet the Parthians on the field of battle! These spears and one or two other ideas I’ve learned from my studies.’

He turned back to Julius with a nod of thanks.

‘Carry on, First Spear.’

‘The first two ranks of every century will give one of their two spears to the two men behind them. They will advance smartly to the closest cart and each man will take one long spear. They will then return to their position with both their long and short spears held in an upright position. Move!’

‘He told you what, exactly?’

‘That he has no idea where Tribune Corvus might be if he’s not to be found in Hama, Governor.’

Domitius Dexter stared at the Phrygian, a slow smile spreading across his face.

‘And there was no word of Corvus in Hama?’

‘Not in the city or the fortress, Governor.’

‘Do you believe that the tribune was ordered to travel to the city?’

After a long pause the younger man answered, clearly sickened by the implication of his words.

‘No, sir. I believe he was sent elsewhere.’

‘And did Legatus Scaurus manage to convince you otherwise?’

The Phrygian opened his mouth, then closed it again.

‘Come now, Prefect, I understand your desire not to implicate a fellow military man, but the issues here are bigger than simple loyalty. Did he convince you otherwise?’

‘No, Governor. He did not.’

Dexter smiled triumphantly.

‘As I expected. You are dismissed with my thanks, Prefect. Secretary!’

The prefect saluted, turned and walked towards the huge office’s door, only partially aware of the hubbub behind him.

‘Secretary! Where is that bloody man? Ah, there you are. Fetch my lictors immediately!’

The front two ranks of the legion had retaken their places with their new spears, as the carts raised clouds of dust in their wake as they rumbled off the parade ground. Unable to help themselves, the legionaries holding the new weapons were looking up at the long iron spearheads ten feet above their heads.

‘Nobody likes change, it seems.’

Standing next to Julius, Scaurus grinned broadly.

‘I know. Although the rest of the legion seems to be enjoying the spectacle well enough.’

Muttering and quiet laughter was spreading across the legion’s line, only the forbidding presence of their officers preventing more widespread mirth from the men not tasked with carrying the new spears. Julius strode forward, bellowing a command at the top of his voice.

‘As you were!’

Waiting until silence had fallen, the legatus stepped forward.

‘Soldiers of the Imperial Third Legion, I have orders to advance into the Parthian kingdom of Adiabene, and to secure our outpost fortress of Nisibis from the siege to which we believe it has been subjected! As many of you know, Nisibis is a mighty fortress, a stronghold whose walls will stand for many months against the most determined of foes. But without our intervention, it will surely eventually fall. Our emperor is a wise man, and he knows that Nisibis will not satisfy this enemy, but will only serve to encourage him to march on our ally, Osrhoene. And when Osrhoene falls, the next natural step for Parthia will be to cross the Euphrates into Syria, with their eyes firmly set on the great city of Antioch! To wait for the Parthian to come to us is to allow him the luxury of more conquest, and to grow in confidence and strength, and so my orders are to cross the river at the first opportunity, seek battle and defeat this aggression before it has the chance to take advantage of that opportunity!’

Complete silence now gripped the thousands of men paraded before him, and Scaurus stalked towards them until he could see the individual hairs in their beards.

‘You heard me! We will be across the Euphrates within a week, and in Nisibis ten days after that, unless we bring this Parthian army to battle …’ He paused theatrically. ‘In which case it will take us ten days and an hour!’

The men closest to him smiled weakly at the joke.

‘I know you’re troubled by the loss of your fellow soldiers in the Sixth Cohort, and in truth you wouldn’t be human if you weren’t! The gods know it troubles me! That a single cohort should be sent to its doom in such an amateur way is beyond belief! But we’re not amateurs, you men and I! We are professional soldiers, and we will make those eastern goat worshippers pay a high price for their fleeting moment of inglorious revenge on Rome!’

He turned to Julius.

‘Get them ready to march.’

The first spear nodded, taking his legatus’s place in front of the legion.

‘Prepare to move! Pack poles, spears, helmets and shields! Any man that leaves anything behind will be pulling double guard duty all the way from here to the river! On your toes, you animals!’

‘Tell me what we’re supposed to do when we get to the barracks again?’

The most senior of Governor Dexter’s lictors scowled without turning to look at his subordinate as they hurried down the road from the city’s western gate towards the Third Legion’s barracks.

‘You heard well enough the last time I told you.’

The man walking beside him shook his head, hefting the bundle of rods that he was carrying onto his other shoulder with careful respect for the axe blade protruding from its middle.

‘I heard it, I just didn’t believe it.’

His superior gritted his teeth before speaking again.

‘Our orders from the governor are clear. We arrest the legion’s legatus, we take him back to the palace and we hand him over to the governor’s men.’

‘And why didn’t he send one of his procurators to make the arrest?’

‘Because, you idiot, it’s more than likely that the soldiers wouldn’t have recognised the man’s authority.’

The other man laughed bitterly.

‘So it’s better for us to have our authority flouted than them?’

The group’s leader stopped walking, turning to his subordinate with a raised finger.

‘Look, as far as I’m concerned-’

A blare of trumpets interrupted him, as the gates of the fortress swung open and, after a moment’s pause, the head of a marching column of men emerged onto the road.

‘We’re too late!’

The senior lictor shook his head angrily.

‘No we’re bloody not. All that’s happened is that this Scaurus has got the shit scared out of him and decided to make a run for it with his men. Come on!’

Leading his reluctant comrade towards the barrack, he ignored the shower of catcalls that rained down on them as the column’s first centuries marched past. Squeezing in through the gateway, he looked around for a moment before his eyes alighted on a group of figures, the junior man’s lips moving as he counted the men still waiting to join the line of march.

‘I thought he was only allowed to take half the legion.’

‘He is only allowed to take half the bloody legion.’

The two men strode across the parade ground under the eyes of thousands of men, stopping a few paces from their intended target as Scaurus turned around and smiled at them.

‘Ah, gentlemen. You both look somewhat hot and bothered, but that’s what happens when you go rushing around in a full-weight toga carrying a big bundle of rods and an axe, I suppose. Can I ask someone to get you a cup of water?’

Shaking his head, the chief lictor drew himself up, drawing a breath ready to pronounce the legatus’s arrest, only to find himself silenced by a raised hand.

‘Before you say whatever it is that you’ve come to say, I suggest that you save yourself some wasted breath by reading this.’

He passed the man a scroll, which he unrolled and started to read.

‘Those are my orders, which direct me to take command of the legion and proceed across the frontier into Osrhoene at my earliest opportunity. Once I’ve paid my respects to King Abgar, I am to head straight for Nisibis, defeating any Parthian forces I meet on the way, overcome any siege of the fortress, and then return to the province to await further orders. Note the seal, by the way. It’s not every day that you’ll see the imperial seal on a document. The last time the governor saw it was when I delivered him the paper telling him that he’d been officially relieved of his duties.’

He smiled at the two men again as they looked at him aghast.

‘No, I suspected that hadn’t been communicated very widely. Anyway, read on chief lictor.’

After a moment, the toga-clad official looked up from the scroll in his hands.

‘But this-’

‘Gives me absolute authority over any and all of the emperor’s subjects that I need to further my mission. Including, since you’ve doubtless been sent here to arrest me and therefore significantly impede my mission, you. So I suggest you turn around and go back to the governor with that as an explanation for the fact that you don’t have me in your custody.’

‘But my authority-’

‘Is granted to you by the emperor, is it not?’

Seeing where Scaurus’s line of argument was taking him, the chief lictor rallied his arguments.

‘Yes, but-’

‘Read the scroll again. Look for the words “obstruction of this officer will be considered grounds for immediate execution”. And consider whether you really want to obstruct me, given that I’m quite possibly marching to my own death in any case, and therefore might not be in the most tolerant frame of mind. If you take my meaning …’

‘If you’re trying to threaten me, Legatus …’

The legion commander laughed softly.

‘Trying to threaten you? Of course I’m not trying to threaten you. Consider my threat overt, consider it blatant, consider it bloody handed if you like, given the number of men my orders have killed in the last few years. But consider it quickly, because if you’re still here by the time I’ve counted to fifty, I’m going to take that small but very important sentence in my orders very, very seriously indeed.’

He turned away, and his hard-faced senior centurion stepped forward and whispered in the lictor’s ear.

‘I think what the legatus is trying to say is this …’

He drew a deep breath, narrowed his eyes and bellowed a single word.

‘RUN!’

‘Shouldn’t people be cheering? Throwing flower petals? Kissing soldiers?’

Sanga laughed at his mate with a distinctly sardonic tone, adjusting the hang of the shield on his shoulder for what seemed like the twentieth time since they had marched from the fortress.

‘This fucking shield is going to cut me in half, it’s so bloody heavy. And no, in my experience the people of any city, town, or village do not turn out to send the boys on their way with loud cheers and tits hanging out. Tits only hang out when we march into town, and that’s only because the whores they belong to are looking forward to getting paid for letting us nuzzle up to them for a while. Perhaps when we march back again …’

‘You won’t be marching back again if you don’t pick the pace up Sanga!’

The veteran turned his head with a weary sigh.

‘It’s this shield, Centurion. All the stuff the bloody armourers have glued onto it has made it heavier than a soldiers’ balls after a month in the field.’

Quintus shrugged, waving his vine stick under the soldier’s nose.

‘Deal with it. And pick the pace up before I’m forced to use this.’

Sanga squared his shoulders and lengthened his stride, muttering under his breath.

‘Before he’s forced to it …’

He fell silent, then snorted with laughter at the sight of two men arguing at the city’s Oriental gate as the Tungrians swept towards the northern wall and the road beyond it. A man in the uniform of the city watch was remonstrating with the legion’s senior centurion, waving his arms for emphasis.

‘… and my orders are to close the gate! Orders from the gov-’

Sanga grinned again as Julius stepped forward, raising his vine stick.

‘And my orders come from my legatus, so you can kiss my hairy wrinkled arsehole …’

They passed out of earshot, the two men’s voices lost in the racket of thousands of pairs of hobnailed boots crashing onto the road’s stone surface.

‘He too late. We last cohort.’

‘That’s as maybe. You know Julius never steps back from a fight.’

Sanga cranked his head round to stare back at the two men, then raised his voice to shout a question at the century’s standard bearer.

‘Hey Morban, what do you reckon the odds are on Julius taking his vine-’

After a moment’s pause he shrugged and turned back to the direction of march.

‘Never mind! Question answered.’

‘The governor told me to send you in immediately.’

Dexter’s secretary and the Phrygian prefect exchanged knowing glances, it being routine for the governor’s appointments to begin with the usual lengthy wait in the anteroom that adjoined his office. He walked past half a dozen would-be supplicants, their irritation at his taking of their turn in the queue somewhat diluted by the rage-filled shouts that leaked into the room as the office door was opened. Setting his face into a professional mask, the tribune entered, to find a pair of lictors standing in front of Dexter’s desk beside the prefect who headed the city watch. While the former looked more than a little dishevelled, the prefect had clearly been in an altercation, a substantial bruise adorning his jaw.

‘First you two incompetents fail to arrest a man who clearly intends to flout my authority for all the world to see, and then you, supposedly the controller of everything that happens in the city, can’t even stop him from marching his legion across the bridge and onto this island, into the city and out through the Oriental gate! Between the three of you you’ve managed to make the office of the governor a laughing stock!’

The prefect waited for his turn, looking around at the office’s lavish wall hangings while Dexter heaped yet more anger onto his hapless functionaries. The story, the secretary had told him as they climbed the long staircase together, was already flying around the city, of how the lictors had run back to the city and ordered the gates closed only to find themselves and those members of the watch who had attempted to obey their orders forcibly restrained by armed soldiers.

‘And now he’s marching east with my bloody legion!’

His tirade exhausted, Dexter turned his attention to the prefect.

‘You took your time answering my summons.’

The Phrygian ignored his superior’s acid tone.

‘Apologies, Governor, I was on the practice ground with my men when your message arrived.’

The older man glowered at him for a moment.

‘Well you can go straight back again, muster your wing and get after my legion! I want Gaius Rutilius Scaurus back here, in chains, and I want the Third Gallic back in barracks! Now!’

The Phrygian nodded his understanding.

‘As you wish, Governor. And what are my orders if the legatus refuses to surrender himself into my custody?’

Dexter’s rage exploded again.

‘I don’t care what you have to do! Bring him back in one piece or carve him into mince if that’s the only way to do it! Just don’t come back here without the man! Is that understood?’

The prefect saluted crisply.

‘Perfectly, Governor.’

‘This better than ship. Even with stupid spear and shield made from stone, I having good day.’

Sanga snorted his disgust, looking up at the point of his own weapon and rolling his eyes as a bead of sweat fell from the end of his nose. The legion was slogging up a narrow valley ten miles to the north of Antioch, and the lack of any shelter from the sun was making the legionaries suffer from more than just the exertion of the road’s remorseless incline.

‘You’re off your head, boy. It’s too fucking hot now, it’ll be too fucking cold when the sun goes down, there’ll be nothing to drink, nothing to screw, and probably not much to eat either. And this Nisibis place we’re marching for is four hundred miles away, across a bloody great desert full of snakes and scorpions. And just to make the whole thing perfect, at some point in the march a bunch of maniacs on horses are going to have a fair old go at recreating the battle of … what was it again?’

‘Carrhae. That what tribune call it.’

‘Well he might just as well have called it “goat fuck”, ’cause that’s what it’ll be. Add in the fact that the legatus has made us the rearguard cohort, so we’ll be last to get into our blankets and I reckon-’

Saratos turned his head, waving a hand at Sanga to silence him.

‘Quiet! I hear horses!’

A swift blast of the trumpeter’s horn brought Scaurus and Julius back down the column, the latter ordering the legion to halt.

‘Stand easy!’

Reaching the rearmost cohort, he barked a swift order to Dubnus that made it clear he expected trouble.

‘This may just be Silus and his scouts rejoining but I don’t intend getting caught with my dick hanging out. Fourth Cohort, battle order! Dubnus, give me a double line across the valley, long spears in the front four ranks!’

Throwing their packs aside, the soldiers scrambled to fulfil his instructions while the sound of horses’ hoofs grew steadily louder, so that by the time the leading rider appeared around the valley’s bend, the ground to either side of the road was blocked by a determined defence bristling with spears. Sanga and Saratos found themselves in the front rank, angling their spears out to join with their comrades in offering a thicket of iron spearpoints to whoever was approaching along the road that led back to Antioch.

‘Mind you, what I’m supposed to do with this fucking thing if it comes to a fight beats me. Swing the fucker around and hope to take some bastard’s eye out?’

The horsemen rode into view, half a dozen of them climbing the valley’s slope at a fast trot, and Silus led them through the gap that Dubnus had opened in the wall of spears, grinning as the hedge of iron spikes closed behind his last man.

‘They may look a bit stupid on the march, but they’ll give any of us donkey wallopers a creaky backside when he sees that lot pointing at him.’

He climbed down from the saddle and took a swig from his water skin.

‘There’s a full cavalry wing overtaking us from the south. I’d guess they’ll overhaul your mules before you’ve gone much further.’

‘In which case, we might as well wait here for them. It is the Phrygians, I presume?’

The sweat had barely dried on the soldiers’ scalps before their pursuers caught up with the waiting legion, the growing swell of noise from their hoofs abruptly doubling as the leading riders came into view around the valley’s bend, the officer at their head raising a hand to halt his men and coming forward at a trot. The cavalrymen waiting behind him were fully armed and equipped, their shields held ready to use rather than slung across their backs. Julius looked down at them from his vantage point on the valley’s side with a dour expression.

‘It’s the Phrygians alright, and they’re not out for a pleasure ride, that’s obvious. And I think it’s fairly clear what their orders are.’

The cavalry prefect reined his horse in just short of the forest of spears, looking up and down the Tungrian line with an approving smile before shouting a greeting to the waiting officers.

‘If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes I wouldn’t have believed it, Legatus. You actually plan to take the fight to the Parthians.’

Scaurus pushed his way through the line and stepped out in front of the cavalryman.

‘My men are still at the stage of wondering just how their new spears are supposed to be used, but yes, I’m under no illusions that we’ll have to give battle, and I’m damned if I’m going to make it easy for them.’

He looked up at the Phrygian with a grim smile.

‘And so you, Prefect, I presume, are under orders to take me back to Antioch?’

The horseman nodded sombrely.

‘In chains.’

‘In chains? I’d imagine nothing less would satisfy the governor’s need to restore face. And if you can’t achieve this act of submission on my part?’

The cavalryman shrugged.

‘Domitius Dexter was completely unambiguous on the subject; I’m to take you back to Antioch, intact or in pieces. He went as far as to tell me that if I can’t bring you back to Antioch, and his legion as well, then I’m not to come back at all. Which puts me in something of a difficult position, as I’m sure you’ll appreciate.’

Scaurus pursed his lips, then waved a hand back at his waiting spear men.

‘My orders aren’t exactly open to misinterpretation either, and they certainly don’t leave room for me to do anything other than march for Zeugma and then on into Osrhoene. Which leaves us both with a dilemma that there may only be one way to resolve. So, if that’s the way it has to be, Prefect Felix, and if your men are as ready as they seem, then shall we get on with it?’

Marcus marched into Zeugma two days after the legion’s arrival, leading a long column of lightly armoured soldiers, each man with a bow over his shoulder and a quiver of arrows at his thigh. Behind them marched five hundred slightly built men clad only in thick woollen tunics. Sanga, watching from his sentry position on the earth wall of the legion’s marching camp, turned to Saratos in bemusement.

‘Some bow benders and a cohort of little boys. What fucking use are they going to be?’

Scaurus and Julius greeted the auxiliary cohorts’ prefects at the fortress’s main gate, the legatus grinning broadly at the sight of another part of his plan coming to fruition.

‘Well now, Tribune Corvus, what have we here?’

The biggest of the three men stepped forward and clasped the legatus’s arm, slapping his shoulder in the manner of a man greeting an old friend.

‘What we have here, Legatus, are three prefects wondering how in Mithras’s name an equestrian gets to command a legion! If a bad-tempered young hothead such as yourself can make make it to the peak of our profession, there’s hope for the rest of us yet!’

They clapped his shoulders in congratulation while Julius walked out through the gates to get a closer look at his new archers.

‘You’re lucky to find us all still here you know, another six months and we’d all have been replaced by new men.’

Scaurus nodded at the speaker, the tallest of the three.

‘And I’m more grateful for that turn of fortune than you can imagine. Without some form of missile threat, my legion would have been at something of a disadvantage against the Parthians, even with the modifications that we’ve been making to weapons and tactics.’

‘Your man Corvus has been telling us all about it, but I’d like to go through the way you plan to take them on once we’re over the frontier. Without cavalry you’ll still be at a disadvantage when it comes to …’

He frowned at the legatus’s slight smile.

‘You have cavalry? How did you pull that one off? As far as I’m aware there’s no one left in command of a wing from the days when you were last here.’

‘And you’re right. But the Lightbringer has shown me one last small piece of favour. Prefect Felix?’

A man stepped forward from the group of officers behind him, and with a laugh Marcus strode forward to meet him, taking him by the hand.

‘Gaius Cornelius Felix! Of all the men I expected to have found their way here, I’d have put you close to the bottom of the list. Surely stopping a Selgovae arrow in Britannia entitled you to a position with a little less risk attached to it? Shouldn’t you be commanding an auxiliary cohort somewhere nice and quiet, rather than riding to war again?’

The cavalryman saluted him briskly.

‘Something of that nature was offered, Tribune, after my rather lengthy convalescence. I couldn’t have condemned any other man to the risk of having to ride that bad-tempered bastard Hades though.’

‘He still bites?’

Felix nodded with a weary smile.

‘Yes, And when the bastard’s not biting, he kicks like a bolt thrower. But gods below, he’s still the best horse in the empire. Give that nasty-tempered creature his head and it’s like riding one of Zeus’s thunderbolts! And my wound is fully recovered.’

He raised his arm to show a knot of scar tissue in his left armpit.

‘It healed perfectly, thanks to your wife’s expert care, so I’m as good as I ever was apart from some stiffness in the joint.’

He looked over at the waiting auxiliaries, then shook his head in disgust.

‘Hamians. You were in Hama after all, weren’t you?’

Marcus laughed.

‘One of my centurions was born and raised in the city, so it wasn’t hard for him to ride into the city and bring out civilian clothing for myself and Martos to wear. We entered Hama as merchants looking for silk at a better price than we’d have to pay in Antioch, and made contact with the prefects once you’d been and gone, to save them the embarrassment of having to lie to you. But what are you doing here? Surely the governor issued you with strict orders to apprehend the legatus?’

Felix smiled beatifically.

‘He told me not to come back without Rutilius Scaurus. So I ordered my men to load their horses with everything they would need for a march to the Euphrates and took them after the Gauls. Once I’d overtaken the legion, and it was apparent that the legatus wasn’t going to turn his men around, I decided to accompany him on his way, obviously making sure to point out to him that he’s acting in defiance of an order from his superior officer.’

He shrugged easily.

‘If the legion’s not for turning, and I’m expressly forbidden to return to Antioch without its legatus, then all I can do is tag along, and hope that he’ll eventually see sense. Of course, by the time we return to Antioch, if we survive whatever’s waiting for us over the border with Parthia, Domitius Dexter may have left his post.’

‘But nobody will be able to say that you didn’t execute your orders to the letter.’

Marcus thought for a moment.

‘Although I would have expected the governor to send further orders, when you didn’t return that evening?’

Felix nodded.

‘I expect he did. But there seems to be some sort of bandit gang operating on the road north from Antioch, deserters from a legion cavalry squadron. Two messengers have walked into the fortress already, stripped of their horses and indeed their messages, although interestingly they were allowed to keep possession of all their personal possessions and weapons. The Fourth Parthian’s legatus is expressing sympathy, but had declined to provide them with replacement mounts until these bandits have been dealt with, for their own safety. It seems he’s taking a fairly dim view of the governor’s fraudulent scheming, since he was already harbouring some fairly strong suspicions of his own. And he wasn’t the only one, it seems, since someone appears to have communicated their concerns to Rome, to judge from your swift means of transport out to the province …’

He smiled again, and Marcus shook his head with a knowing smile.

‘It was you, wasn’t it?’

Felix sniffed disdainfully.

‘No true gentleman would stoop to such a grubby scheme. I expect my father was only too happy to pass on my musings on why it was that the Gauls were so short of numbers. Although without evidence I’ve no doubt that the ghastly man will manage to slip off the hook. Come along, I’ll show you to the officers’ quarters and then to the bathhouse. You look like a man in need of a sweat and a shave. Oh, and don’t worry if you think you can hear shouting from the parade ground. First Spear Julius seems to be determined to drill some semblance of order into his new command, and he’s approaching the task in, shall we say, a somewhat brutalist manner?’

The legion marched east from Zeugma the next day, crossing the long pontoon bridge that gave the city its Greek name and using the road that ran straight for Edessa, capital of the client kingdom of Osrhoene. Moving in strict battle order, with scouts riding ahead, behind and to both flanks, the soldiers were for the most part now covering twenty miles a day without their former discomfort, but if the issue of their stamina had been resolved, it seemed that some among their ranks would never meet their first spear’s expectations in terms of either drill or weapons handling.

‘We’ll do it again tonight, gentlemen, and we’ll keep doing it until the entire legion can get out of its blankets and into formation to defend the camp in less time than it takes for a new recruit to blow his load the first time his mates take him into a brothel to get his fucking cherry popped!’

The legion’s centurions looked at each other in disgust at the prospect of yet another night’s sleep being rudely disturbed, and Julius shrugged, shaking his head at them.

‘Don’t be giving me the cow’s eyes, because one of these nights you might owe your life to these drills. If you want me to stop them then persuade your fucking halfwits to get it right.’

Scaurus had instructed his senior officers to take their share of the duties expected of the cohorts’ senior centurions, and Marcus took command of the night watch that evening with a wry smile at the duty centurions as they trooped away from the briefing.

‘You’re really convinced that the enemy are going to attempt a night attack at some point?’

Julius shook his head.

‘Far from it, Tribune …’

The emphasis that Julius had initially placed on his former subordinate’s title had vanished in an instant the moment that he’d been appointed as the legion’s first spear, a reflection on his own professionalism, but he was unable to resist speaking to the younger man in the same brisk manner that he used with his centurions.

‘But you know as well as I do that the one means of coming after us that we don’t prepare for will be the one they use to stick a big one right up us. So the scouts are out all day and in all directions, the legatus keeps drawing his maps with his Arab, the men practise formation manoeuvres two hours a day and they’ll keep on practising night camp defence until I think they’ve got it. And now, sir, I’ll go and see how the latest picture of the ground between here and Edessa is shaping up, and leave you to your rounds.’

Smiling at his friend’s back as he left the command tent, Marcus stepped out into the dusk’s faint light to find Martos waiting for him.

‘What is it now? Orders from the legatus to ride back to Zeugma in the hope of sneaking one of the Fourth Legion’s cohorts away while nobody’s looking?’

The Briton grinned at his acerbic humour.

‘No, Roman. I am simply bored and in need of entertainment. And what could be more entertaining than watching you inspecting the camp’s sentries. We’ll take this one along with us …’

He jerked a thumb back over his shoulder at the giant in the shadows behind him.

‘Just in case anyone needs a taste of discipline a little more effective than those silly sticks your centurions carry.’

The three men made a leisurely tour of the camp’s earth walls, checking that each cohort’s section of the defences was manned by the appropriate number of sentries and that none of them had succumbed to sleep. Reaching the Tungrian’s section of the perimeter, Marcus returned Quintus’s salute with a smile, the expression broadening as Sanga and Saratos stamped to attention.

‘Good evening, Centurion. All’s well?’

‘All’s well, Tribune sir.’

He’d turned to leave, only to look back when Sanga had blurted out a request.

‘Tribune sir, permission to ask you a question?’

Raising a hand to forestall Quintus’s inevitable outburst, Marcus raised an eyebrow at the soldier.

‘Yes, Soldier Sanga. I presume this is a military question, and not simply an enquiry as to the number and quality of the whores in Hama?’

‘No, sir. It’s just that Saratos here heard you telling one of your colleagues about a battle near here? A battle that didn’t go well for the legions?’

Marcus nodded.

‘The battle of Carrhae. Forty thousand legionaries commanded by a politician called Crassus confronted ten thousand Parthians led by a general called Surena. Twenty thousand of our men were killed on the battlefield, mostly killed by arrow wounds, and another ten thousand were taken prisoner. Rumour has it they were sold to the Parthians’ trading partners in the east. Not the brightest day in our military history.’

‘What happen to Crassus, Tribune?’

‘Crassus? He attempted to negotiate a retreat from Parthia the day after the battle, and was murdered by the enemy under a flag of truce. And just to prove there’s no justice, the Parthian general was also murdered, but by his own king, for being too successful and thereby threatening the man’s position. And, as my tutor used to tell me, we learn two things from all of this: never trust a Parthian general to keep his word, and never let yourself be seen as a threat to an insecure king! Good night gentlemen!’

He walked away into the darkness with the Britons following behind him. The sentries watched them leave in silence until Sanga snorted derisively.

‘The lesson I take from that little story has nothing to do with generals and kings, and a lot more to do with arrows.’