eyebrow in question.
‘The usual offer is open, Centurion. You could always scout forward with us this morning. I’m sure your chosen man is more than capable of looking after these soldiers.’
The young centurion shook his head.
‘Not today, I’m afraid, Silus. Much as I’d like nothing better than to ride along with you, my duty is here with my soldiers. And besides, to deprive whoever’s riding that monster Bonehead of his mount today would be to condemn him to a day rubbing his feet raw and listening to our full repertoire of songs about cavalrymen and your close relationships with the local wildlife.’
One of the younger soldiers marching beside him was unable to contain himself, and raised his voice above the rattle of hobnails.
‘And sheep, Centurion!’
The century’s watch officer, a one-eyed veteran universally called Cyclops whenever he wasn’t listening, promptly stepped out of the rank ahead of the miscreant and marched next to him with his face inches from his victim’s, bellowing admonishment and imprecation at the top of his voice, much to the young soldier’s dismay and Silus’s pleasure.
‘ Don’t you dare to interrupt the young gentleman when he’s talking to another officer, you nasty little man! I’ll have you shovelling shit on latrine duty for the next month!’ Marcus raised an eyebrow at the decurion, rolling his eyes at the vehemence of the tirade. The watch officer caught a glimpse of the expression from the corner of his eye, but misinterpreted the cause and redoubled his verbal assault on the visibly wilting soldier. ‘And now you’ve upset the officer, you worthless excuse for a soldier. He thinks you’re a prick, the decurion thinks you’re a prick, and I’m fucking certain you’re a prick, which makes you what? Eh?’
‘A… a prick?’
‘A prick, Watch Officer! Come with me!’ He dragged the soldier out of the ranks, putting a booted foot into his backside. ‘Run, you fucker! Let’s see how long you can keep up with the horses, shall we?’
‘Ah, the enjoyment of watching an experienced professional in action. I see man management is still a strong point with the infantry.’
Marcus shook his head in resigned amusement, waving Silus away.
‘You’d best be off to see what’s going on over the next hill. And I’d better rescue that soldier before Watch Officer Augustus puts his severed head on a spear to encourage the rest of my men. Enjoy your day’s scouting!’
The decurion shot him an ironic salute and moved away to rejoin his men, shouting a command and nudging his horse into a fast trot. As the scouts headed for the horizon Marcus turned his attention back to the hapless soldier, already fifty paces up the road with Cyclops in vigorous and noisy pursuit.
‘Hold this for a minute. I need to dig my cloak out and put the bloody thing on.’
Morban passed his standard to the trumpeter marching at his side and reached for the heavy woollen rectangle, thanking the foresight that had made him roll it up and wrap it around his belt. The younger man smirked down at him as he tugged it about his barrel-shaped body with a grunt of satisfaction.
‘Feeling the cold, are you?’
The standard bearer answered in a voice loud enough to be heard over the clash of hobnails, never taking his attention off the brooch’s stubborn pin.
‘Bloody thing won’t close. I knew I should have got this seen to while we were in barracks. The pin’s too short, and the bloody thing’s bent in the middle.’ He shot the trumpeter a vindictive glance, then turned his head and raised an eyebrow to the soldiers marching behind them. ‘A bit like your cucumber, from what I could see of that rather unpleasant act you were performing last night when I walked into the barrack without knocking and giving you time to hide it away. Now have you had enough, or do you want some more, tiny bent cock?’ Morban waited for a moment to be sure that the abashed trumpeter wasn’t going to scrape together enough wit to come back at him with any one of the retorts he would have mustered under the same accusation, then shook his head in genuine disgust. ‘Soldiers with less than ten years’ service should be seen and not heard, I’d say.’ The veteran marching behind him nodded his agreement, his voice a gravelly rasp as he rose to Morban’s game.
‘I knows. Give ’em a few months and they loves to play with the big lads, but they goes all quiet and runs away the second you gives ’em a proper smacking. Shouldn’t be allowed to join in with the fun and games until they’ve done their ten and learned to stand up for themselves. And to hold their beer…’
He winked at Morban, who gave the trumpeter a significant glance. The younger man started to protest, but swiftly closed his mouth again as Morban raised an eyebrow at him.
‘I wouldn’t, if I were you. Just make do with starting a conversation about something that can’t be turned against you.’
‘Such as?’
‘Such as the weather. See, when we set out this morning the sun was all bright and shiny, and you were thinking about a lovely warm day for marching, but now the sky’s the same colour as…’
The trumpeter opened his mouth to suggest something that matched the western sky’s dull grey, but was beaten to it by the soldier behind him.
‘… as his face when he’d done puking all over his boots the other night?’
‘That’s it, just the same colour!’ Morban smirked at the younger man for a moment before taking pity on his expression of bemused fury. ‘Now, now, don’t you go getting all hot and bothered. Look, there’s trees on the horizon; that’s the forest we’re marching to conquer!’
‘So that’s this Arduenna the locals all worship, is it?’
Tribune Scaurus looked across the farmland that stretched out before them to the forested hills in the distance, their dark slopes blending with the overcast sky.
Frontinius was marching beside him with a slight limp, the legacy of a sharp-eyed barbarian archer’s arrow at the battle of Lost Eagle the previous year. He nodded without breaking step.
‘Yes, Tribune, that’s the Arduenna. If the maps are right we’re only a couple of miles from the forest edge, although that might as well be twenty given the river that runs between here and the hills. A hundred paces wide and more, and apparently deep enough to be unfordable, other than across the shallows at Mosa Ford. If Dubnus has it wrong then we’ll have to go all the way west to the river bridge on the road to the Treveri capital, then march back to the east along the river bank.’
He stopped talking, raising an eyebrow at the tribune, who was gently shaking his head.
‘We’ll just have to hope that your centurion’s eyes weren’t deceiving him, then, won’t we? Ah, here come the mounted scouts now. You can stop the column for a rest, First Spear; let’s see what your man Silus has to say for himself.’
The decurion rode up and dismounted, saluting smartly to the tribune and the two first spears, who had gathered to hear his report.
‘We went all the way to the bridge, Tribune, without any sign of movement. There’s a couple of carts a few miles down the road, but nothing to interest us. Prefect Caninus took his men away to the west, as agreed.’
Scaurus nodded to Frontinius, who returned his gaze with a questioning look.
‘As we discussed it, Tribune?’
Opening his mouth to confirm the order, Scaurus was silenced by a voice from behind him.
‘As you discussed what?’
Scaurus turned to find Belletor, still mounted on his horse, close behind him. He looked up at the bemused tribune with a tight smile and pointed in the direction of the river.
‘We’re leaving the road and marching south for the Mosa. Once we’re off the road we’ll deploy into formation for an approach march, and your men can bring up the rear.’
Belletor frowned down at him.
‘But I thought…’
‘… that we were heading for the road bridge over the Mosa another ten miles to the west? Indeed, you did, along with the entire population of Tungrorum, I’d imagine. But one of my centurions has discovered a little secret, a piece of tactical intelligence I personally rate as pure gold, so we’re going to try something else, something not even Caninus and his men know about.’ He turned away from the baffled tribune, gesturing to Frontinius. ‘Whenever you’re ready, Sextus.’
Frontinius limped away, shouting for his centurions and quickly gathering the officers around him in a tight
