‘I didn’t say I was sure he’s the one, Prefect, but I do wonder what a young Roman would be doing in such a position. I believe it’s more usually the case that young lads from the right background go to serve with the legions, prove themselves fit to command and end up as legion commanders…’
He stopped talking as he realised that an evil look had crept across the prefect’s face. After a moment Furius realised that he was no longer speaking, and wrenched himself from his bitter reverie.
‘What? Oh… yes. You’re right, that is more usually the case. So why not bring this to me through the first spear? I shouldn’t imagine he’d be very happy to discover you were here without his permission.’
Appius nodded, still apparently untroubled by the prefect’s comments.
‘Happy, sir? He’d have my balls off with a rusty dagger. I just thought, given that he’s a good friend of the First Cohort’s first spear…’
‘That we ought to keep this discussion between us?’ For the first time in the conversation the prefect smiled. ‘Absolutely right, Centurion. In which case you’d best be on your way and come back when you’ve got some slightly better evidence to offer me, eh? And don’t worry, man, I won’t be letting on to dear old Neuto that we had this conversation. I don’t intend to give either the fugitive, if that’s what he is, or the men hiding him from justice, any warning that he’s been uncovered. You find me the evidence and I’ll do the rest. And I’ll make sure you’re well rewarded for your loyalty to the throne.’
The Tungrian officers gathered in The Hill’s gloomy headquarters building for morning reports as usual just before dawn, the main hall’s only illumination the torches burning along its cold stone walls. A hulking brown bearded centurion crossed the floor and clasped hands with Julius and Rufius before turning to Marcus, accentuating his welcome with a hearty slap of the young man’s shoulder. ‘Well, young Two Knives, I hear you’ve taken pity on us lonely men and recruited in a double century of Syrian girlie boys.’
Marcus nodded in mock resignation. ‘It’s true. I knew that if I returned with a century of infantrymen you’d be after me for your cut, so I settled for Hamian bow twangers instead. There are no axemen for you to be lusting after in the Eighth Century, brother, you’ll just have to pester Tiberius Rufius for your replacements.’
The 10th Century’s centurion slapped his shoulder again, laughing easily in the quiet gloom. ‘You cunning dog, you always were the smart one…’ He turned to Rufius, his hands spread in supplication. ‘… and as he says, Grandfather, you do have a full-strength century of big strong lads. Surely you can spare me a few? Half a dozen would be a start, ten would be perfect. Will you help your brother?’
Rufius raised his hands defensively, backing off from the big man in apparent dismay. ‘Oh no, it just isn’t possible, Titus. You know I’d like to help you, but these new boys of mine are all well-educated and house-trained young men, drilled in the fine arts of infantry combat and military etiquette. I couldn’t in good faith condemn any of them to descend to the degraded standards of behaviour your men have sunk to. I…’
‘Attention!’
The gathered officers turned to face the door and snapped to attention. First Spear Frontinius had entered the room with the prefect following him.
‘Brother officers, stand at ease. Make yourselves comfortable. I know that you’re not used to seeing the prefect at morning reports, but we received a courier just before nightfall yesterday with the message we’ve all been waiting for. The new governor has taken command at Noisy Valley and his first order is for several cohorts, including ourselves, to march in and join up with the legions. As of now the war with the northern tribes is back on again, and there’s still enough campaigning time left in the year for us to finish Calgus and his rabble off if they’re unwise enough to offer us a straight fight.’
He paused for a moment, looking around his brother officers.
‘We’re ordered to report for attached duty with Sixth Victorious by dusk tomorrow night, which gives us one day for preparation and then a day’s march to join the legion. You’ve got today to get your men and their gear ready for a good long stint in the field, so I suggest you make the most of that time and make sure we won’t have anyone’s boots falling to pieces or spearheads coming loose at the wrong moment. You, Centurion Corvus, had better start educating your Hamians as to just what it feels like when the blue-noses come knocking, and I think you’d better have some help with that, given the amount of time we’ve got. Prefect?’
The man waiting patiently behind him stepped out of the shadows.
‘Gentlemen, for those of you that have been away putting down the Carvetii, my name is Gaius Rutilius Scaurus. My orders from the governor were quite straightforward, to get ready for a month’s campaigning and bring my cohort across to join with the Sixth Legion by the end of tomorrow. Given the sparse nature of those orders there isn’t all that much to be said on that particular subject, but I can give you an insight into this new governor. I believe that the last man to hold the post tended to take a back seat to the legion commanders when it came to setting the pace of operations. That will not be the case under Ulpius Marcellus, I can assure you. We’ll soon be up in Calgus’s face and looking to provoke him to come out of whatever hidey-hole he’s hidden himself in and fight. I know this cohort has a proud reputation, and I know that reputation only got stronger given the fight you won against the odds earlier this summer. I think you can confidently expect the governor to be keen to make full use of your abilities, so make sure your men are ready for action, because make no mistake, gentlemen, it’s coming your way. First Spear…?’
Frontinius stepped forward.
‘Thank you, Prefect. We parade at dawn as usual, full kit and marching order, please, both practice swords and iron to be worn. Today, my brothers, is going to be a long day for us all. Dismissed, gentlemen, with the exception of the following officers: Corvus, Julius, Rufius and Dubnus. I need a discussion with the four of you on the subject of getting our newest recruits ready to fight before this new governor puts us back into the war.’
The 2nd Tungrian cohort paraded soon after first light. Once the cohort had marched on to The Rock’s parade ground, found their places under the grey sky and settled down, Prefect Furius walked out in front of them with a grim face. He nodded to Neuto, and the First Spear rapped out a crisp order.
‘Bring out the prisoner!’
Soldier Secundus was marched on to the parade ground and tied to the whipping posts, his arms stretched tightly out to either side to keep him upright. Ropes strung between the posts at chest and groin level waited to catch his body when, as was usual with heavy floggings, he passed out with the pain and loss of blood. The men guarding him stripped away the loincloth that had been his only garment and stepped away from the whipping posts. Prefect Furius squinted across the parade ground at the posts, a note of uncertainty in his voice.
‘An interesting arrangement, First Spear. Not exactly standard.’
Neuto nodded, shrugging.
‘It’s my usual method in these circumstances, Prefect. Once the scourging’s well under way he’ll faint away from loss of blood and pain, and I like to keep them on their feet. Keeps the blood in the body longer, and lets the troops see the mess we’re making of the man. Sets an example, if you like.’
He watched the prefect carefully as the man raised an appreciative eyebrow.
‘Good thinking, First Spear Neuto. Sets an example indeed.’
Neuto muttered a silent prayer of thanks to his gods, nodding his respect to the prefect with his face an inscrutable mask.
‘Thank you, Prefect. Now, if you’ll permit me…?’
He walked out in front of the cohort, shouting for the waiting men to come to attention.
‘Second Cohort!’ The silence while the soldiers waited for him to speak again was almost tangible. ‘Second Cohort, you will this morning witness the execution of the man that murdered Prefect Bassus. Let this be an example to you of how we deal with criminals within our ranks.’
He walked grimly across to the helpless prisoner, readying himself to play his part as the first officer to wield the scourge, shaking its leather ropes loose with an impatient gesture before pulling his arm back in readiness for the first blow.
‘Hold!’
Furius stepped forward, his hand outstretched.
‘I think I’ll take the first five, First Spear. You did the hard work yesterday in getting the fool to confess…’
He hefted the scourge for a moment, letting all gathered see him examine the braided ropes, jagged pieces of bone knotted into the leather at each finger-length from the handle, then flicked the whip high over his shoulder before delivering a fearsome blow across Secundus’s back from right shoulder to left kidney. He struck again, aiming at the left shoulder to paint a rough cross of deeply scored wounds on the condemned soldier’s back. Blood began
