own than she was here in Utica, and, having attended several feasts while in the Numidian capital, and having observed her behaviour with some of the noblemen of that city, he fully suspected that she had taken at least one lover. But she had promised him that she would return in time, well aware how her husband would view her continued absence.
‘It would have been better if you’d stayed.’
‘The Lady Iniobia was quite insistent. I did not have the strength to change her mind.’
‘When do you leave for Rome?’ Avidius snapped, changing the subject abruptly, making his subordinate wonder if he suspected the truth.
‘As soon as your despatch is ready, Excellency.’
He hoped, desperately, that his superior would show more diligence than hitherto in executing that task. If he were delayed for any time he would miss the annual elections for the aedileship. True to his character, Avidius was excessive in that article, so by the time Marcellus and his family landed at Ostia it was too late, but his disappointment at that fact was outweighed by his reaction to the news, brought back to Rome by the Calvinus twins, of what had happened to the army of Mancinus at Pallentia.
‘You could see the disaster looming,’ said Gnaeus, ‘as soon as the first assault failed.’
‘Then why didn’t Mancinus withdraw?’ asked Marcellus.
It was Publius Calvinus who replied. ‘Only the gods know that. He had plenty of advice.’
Gnaeus laughed bitterly. ‘Most of it bad.’
Marcellus failed to see the joke and his saturnine face was black with anger. ‘Twenty thousand Roman troops taken prisoner. He should have fallen on his sword rather than let that happen, and so should every officer he led.’
Publius was stung; it was as if his friend was rebuking him for his own survival. Yet he had told Marcellus everything about the conferences that had taken place before the attack of Pallentia. Mancinus was as impatient as all his predecessors, wanting the spoils and the triumph so badly that military prudence was abandoned.
‘Aquila Terentius is the only one to emerge with any real credit. Without him, the 18th would have suffered the same fate. How he got us out of there I don’t know.’
‘He didn’t get you out, Publius. The legate in command did that.’
‘That’s all you know. If it’d been left to him, our bones would be spread across Iberia. Thank the gods that Aquila Terentius refused to obey his orders.’
‘I didn’t think I’d ever live to hear a friend of mine praise a centurion for disobeying a legate. To think we studied under the same tutor, and learnt the same lessons, and this is how you speak. Timeon would turn in his grave.’
‘You haven’t met the man in question!’ said Gnaeus, sharply, wondering how Marcellus, who had hated their Greek tutor as much as he, could now talk as though the man was something other than the tyrant with a vine sapling he had been. Ye gods, his old school friend had once boxed the man’s ears and been whipped by his father’s servants for it. If Marcellus saw his ire, it had no effect on him.
‘I think I’ve met this fellow, years ago,’ said Marcellus. ‘He was in my cohort on the march to Spain. Tall, red-gold hair and a cocky manner.’
‘He has every right to be cocky.’
They all stood at the sound and turned to see the imposing frame of Titus Cornelius filling the doorway. The black hair was now tinged with grey, but the soldierly bearing had survived, so much so that Marcellus was reminded of the first time he had seen his father. He had stood in a doorway too, reminding their tutor, who was about to whip Marcellus, that one day the boy would be his master. The newly elected junior consul looked as tough and determined as ever so the greetings were swift, for he had known these young men since they were children and nor did he have time for pleasantries. He looked hard at the Calvinus twins.
‘The first thing I want to know is how, when a whole army was captured, one legion escaped and you two survived?’
‘Perhaps we’re better soldiers than Mancinus,’ said Publius, who was still smarting from the implied rebuke of Marcellus, and refusing to be cowed either by Titus’s reputation, or his consular imperium.
‘I have a pig that meets that criterion.’
‘We’re here at Marcellus’s request, Titus Cornelius,’ said Gnaeus. ‘We’ve already made our official report.’
‘If what you tell me is to be of any use, I need to know how you got away.’
‘Then you must ask the senior centurion of the 18th Legion, Titus, for it was entirely his doing.’
‘Explain!’ snapped Titus.
He realised, by the looks on their faces, that his tone offended the Calvinus boys and that they were not going to be browbeaten. Perhaps, in their time in Spain, they had become proper soldiers after all, so he softened his look and added a polite supplication. ‘Please?’
‘Would it be in order to start at the beginning?’ asked Publius.
‘Essential,’ said Titus, before addressing Marcellus. ‘Perhaps we could have the use of a scribe?’
The young men had been talking for nearly an hour, everything they said attesting to the fact that Mancinus was entirely the author of his own misfortunes. They recounted the facts of the original reconnaissance and the way their recommendations had been ignored, of the assaults launched without proper preparation, which had resulted in terrible casualties; of the day when, in front of all the other officers, Aquila Terentius bluntly informed his general that the other tribes were gathering behind him, telling him that if he did not withdraw they faced disaster.
‘He was plainly correct,’ said Titus without pleasure. ‘None of the other senior officers questioned Mancinus’s commands?’
‘He’s not the type to welcome questions,’ replied Gnaeus. ‘And Gavius Aspicius was egging him on.’
He and Publius, really too junior to take such a risk, had backed Aquila Terentius, but to say so now would sound like special pleading.
‘This primus pilus seems to be an exceptional person.’
‘Does this help?’ asked Marcellus, who was a little bored with hearing about this man. The twins thought him a paragon, while he knew him for what he was, an insubordinate menace. Titus looked at the scribe, then at his host and Marcellus immediately sent him away.
‘We must wait to see what happens in the house,’ Titus replied. ‘What I need now is your opinion of what must be done.’
‘That’s easy,’ said Publius. ‘Give Aquila enough legions and he’ll bring the war to a conclusion in one season.’
Marcellus cut in. ‘Please be serious, Publius.’
‘He was being serious,’ said Gnaeus.
‘This fellow has turned your wits. No one is that good. Besides, he’s an illiterate peasant, you told me so yourself. You’re not seriously suggesting we give command to someone like him?’
‘Being serious…’ said Titus, with a quizzical expression.
‘Pallentia wasn’t worth the effort. They knew that we could take it if we wanted, so long as we were willing to enforce a siege. That’s why they let Mancinus pass under the yoke and he only chose it because it was the lesser of two evils. He prayed it would fall easily, then he wouldn’t be asked why, if he wanted to attack a hill fort, he avoided the real prize.’
‘Numantia.’ The youngsters nodded. Titus declined to say that he had first recommended an attack on Numantia as a young tribune, when he was not much older than these young men, but he still posed the question, just to see if the answer differed from the conclusions he had reached all those years ago. ‘Why?’
Marcellus shot him a swift glance. He knew full well that Titus had been harping on about this for years.
‘Because the biggest, the hardest to attack, with the toughest, most numerous tribe of them all, is the Duncani. Their leader has been at odds with the Republic for thirty years, yet he won’t come out to fight. Our information is that he hopes we will attack, so that he can inflict a resounding defeat that will spell the end of Roman rule in Hispania. It’s a good job he wasn’t at Pallentia. He would have put every one of our men to the sword.’
‘Could we isolate Numantia?’ asked Marcellus. ‘If we took all the other forts?’
‘We lack the means,’ said Gnaeus. ‘There are dozens of them now, but there is nothing as formidable as Numantia. Destroy it, raze it to the ground, and the rest will know that they have no chance against Rome. Leave it
