Laenas raised both eyebrows with surprise. Scaurus nodded in confirmation, willing his face not to reveal the amusement he was feeling at the look on the other man’s face.
‘I am your commanding officer, Popillius Laenas, and when I gather my officers I expect them all to salute me, including you. When I give a command, I expect the appropriate respect and a speedy response, with a salute. In short, Tribune, I expect you to behave in a way that recognises our relative ranks while your cohort forms part of my command.’
The young aristocrat stared at him in amazement.
‘You’re seriously expecting me to salute you? But I’m…’
Scaurus nodded, raising a hand to forestall the other man.
‘Yes, I know, you’re a broad-stripe tribune and you’ve only ever saluted your legatus who, like you, is of the senatorial class. And I, as we are both only too well aware, am an equestrian. The broad stripe on your tunic far outweighs the narrow stripe on mine, and in any other situation I would be the one deferring to superior rank. If I meet you in the street in Rome some day, then I will be the man showing respect for his social better, and I will do so promptly and with all due deference to your rank. Today, however, Tribune Laenas, you will have to adjust to the idea of saluting me, and you will have to make that adjustment quickly. Unlike some senior officers of my class, I do not intend to ignore the correct disciplines of this military life which we have chosen.’
Laenas looked at him for so long that First Spear Frontinius was convinced he had decided to be deliberately insolent, and was tensed for the explosion that he knew such a reaction would elicit from Scaurus, but, to his relief, the young tribune simply raised one hand to his forehead, a look of bemusement on his face.
‘You’ll have to forgive me, Tribune, I’m not used to taking orders from anyone below the rank of the legion’s legatus. I’ll do my best to remember in future.’
Scaurus nodded impassively.
‘Thank you, Tribune Laenas. I’m sure we’ll both soon get used to the idea, strange though it may be. And this is your first spear, I presume?’
‘Yes, Tribune, Senior Centurion Canutius.
Canutius saluted crisply.
‘Tribune, the first cohort of Twentieth Valiant and Victorious is ready for detached duty. We have seven hundred and forty-three men fit for…’
He stopped speaking as Scaurus raised a hand and pointed at something over Laenas’s shoulder.
‘My apologies, First Spear, but I think our detachment from the Petriana has arrived.’
The horsemen of the Petriana wing were indeed making their appearance, each rider leading his horse down through the trees and into the morning sunlight. More than a few of the cavalrymen were leading a second horse, and as the squadrons began to form up facing end on to the infantry cohorts, Marcus realised that there were thirty or so empty saddles among the two-hundred-odd horsemen of his cavalry squadrons.
Frontinius leaned close to his tribune’s ear, speaking quietly to avoid being overheard.
‘That’s strange, I thought we were being loaned six squadrons? I can only see five. That, and a lot of riderless horses.’
Scaurus nodded thoughtfully.
‘You’re right. Let’s see what Tribune Licinius has to say on the subject.’
The Petriana’s commander was the last man out of the forest, and he strode briskly across to Scaurus with a businesslike air, a vaguely familiar decurion walking behind him and leading a magnificent spirited black stallion which jerked at the reins every few seconds, its evident desire to be away across the rolling ground at a gallop manifest in every movement. His own grey horse was waiting for him at the forest’s edge, along with his personal bodyguard. Scaurus snapped to attention, followed by the three first spears and, a second later, Popillius Laenas. Licinius smiled lopsidedly, shaking his head gently.
‘There’s no need for you to be saluting me, Tribune, we’re of an equal rank now and you’ll only go embarrassing me in front of the governor or, worse still, a legatus.’ He looked around at the three first spears and Laenas, favouring them with a wintry smile. ‘Morning, gentlemen. Please do stand at ease while I take your tribune off for a quick chat.’
He took Scaurus by the arm and led him a few paces away from the group of his officers, stopping to talk once there was no chance of their being overheard.
‘I haven’t got long, so we’ll have to make this quick. The rest of my command is champing at the bit to go north and get stuck back into those Venicone bastards. You’ve probably already worked out that I’m stretching my orders just a little, and giving you five full squadrons and one more consisting of horses whose riders were killed yesterday. We had a bit of a time of it, I’m afraid, so I’m assuming that you can spare me from giving you another thirty men by putting some of your own in their saddles. I’m putting my men under the command of Decurion Felix, a young man who’s not just an excellent officer, but also very well connected, if you take my meaning. Unlike some sons of influence, however, he insisted on starting his service as a cavalry squadron commander, despite the fact that his father could have pulled a few strings and seen him start off as a legion tribune like that fool Laenas. Apparently he wanted to see the life of a soldier from the ground up, a position which I find myself forced to respect given the capabilities of a certain legion tribune not far from here.’ He raised an eyebrow at the look on Scaurus’s face. ‘And yes, I can see you trying to work out where you’ve seen him before. He’s the man you rescued from the Votadini during the disaster at White Strength.’
Scaurus nodded.
‘Oh yes, now I remember him. He had a barbarian hunting arrow stuck in his armpit less than a fortnight ago, as I recall. Are you really sure he’s fit for duty?’
Licinius nodded briskly.
‘Centurion Corvus’s wife-to-be seems to have worked miracles, got the bloody thing out without causing any more damage than it had already inflicted on him, and I’m told he’ll make a full recovery soon enough. Just give him time for the wound to fully heal and you will find him to be not only an efficient officer, but a good fighting man to boot. I can’t take him back into the fight yet, though, and I can’t spare you anyone that’s fully fit, so you’re both going to have to make the most of it. Oh, and watch out for his horse, he’s a magnificent animal but he’s also an evil-tempered bugger. And now I must get back to my men, before they decide to ride north for revenge without me. I wouldn’t put it past them either, not with the mood they were in last night. The best of luck with your mission to liberate the poor old Votadini!’
He clapped Scaurus on the shoulder and turned away, mounting his horse and riding back up the path with his bodyguard in close attendance. The tribune turned back to his own men, taking the measure of the decurion standing slightly apart from them.
‘We’ve met before, I think, Decurion Felix?’
The other man nodded, raising his right arm gingerly in a careful salute.
‘Indeed we have, Tribune. I was lucky enough to be saved from the barbarians by that large German gentleman standing behind you and one of your centurions. They found me as good as dead, with an arrow sticking out of my armpit and poor old Hades here not much better off.’
Scaurus nodded.
‘You’re the man that rode through the barbarian warband during the battle for White Strength and lived to tell the tale. You must have balls the size of goose eggs.’
The decurion tilted his head to acknowledge the compliment.
‘Amulius Cornelius Felix, Tribune.’
‘And I’m Gaius Rutilius Scaurus, tribune commanding First and Second Tungrian Cohorts, and temporarily appointed to lead this detachment. How long is it since you were wounded, Decurion?’
Felix frowned in concentration for a moment.
‘Fifteen days, Tribune.’
‘Just over two weeks? Are you sure that you’re fit enough for field duty?’
The cavalryman smiled slightly.
‘Not really, but given another week I’ll be perfectly fine. In the meantime I’m more than capable of riding and issuing these layabouts with orders, and we have another four decurions who can do the running around until I can lift a sword again.’
‘Tribune Licinius commends you as a competent officer, and tells me that you’ll be worth the wait. He also tells me to keep an eye open for your horse?’
