‘Then why the fuck are we goin’?’ said a voice from the ranks.
‘I said I won’t lie to you. It’s not for glory and it’s certainly not an excuse to line some consul’s pockets, but going we are. It’s the battle we should have fought years ago, and when we leave this camp we’re going to be the best men that Rome can put in the field. You’re all about to lose some weight, just as you’re all about to lose those comforts that have become part of your lives.’
There was a loud murmur, like a wave going through the massed ranks of legionaries.
‘This camp goes on a war footing as from today. Only soldiers, grooms and armourers will be allowed in the camp.’ Aquila paused, letting the import of his words sink in, then took a spear from one of the praetorian guards. ‘Anybody who doesn’t like it, can come and see me.’
‘It’s robbery,’ said the fat captain, chins wobbling as he protested.
‘Very likely,’ replied Marcellus. ‘But at least you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing you helped to save the Republic.’
‘Bugger the Republic,’ he replied, though he recoiled quickly enough when he felt Marcellus’s sword at his throat.
‘Never say that again! And just so you’ll remember where you loyalties should lie, I’ll take twice the number of your men than I’m taking from the other ships.’
‘I won’t be able to move from Portus Albus. The owner will flay me alive.’
If he had hoped to dent Marcellus’s determination he was sadly disappointed. His rowers were marched ashore and, once assembled, led along the beach to the platforms that the young tribune had erected. These were surrounded by piles of newly cut sweeps, as well as legionaries, who looked as unsure of their reasons for being there as the newly pressed sailors. Marcellus jumped up onto the first step and addressed them.
‘Right now, every shipwright in the whole of the province is busy building a fleet of quinqueremes, the most powerful weapon afloat. Once they’re built, I’m going to sail north and attack the Lusitani.’ He looked around slowly to gauge the effect of his words. ‘We could wait for the ships to be ready and then spend months learning to row them, but there’s no time for that. Instead we will use these platforms to practise on, one sailor to four soldiers. You seafarers will teach them to row on dry land. By the time the ships are built, I intend to put straight to sea. If you’re any good, we’ll win. If not, we’ll probably all drown.’
The local people came to stare, the children to jeer, as they watched grown men sitting on dry land, rowing furiously and unevenly. It started out as chaos, with oars going in all directions as the soldiers tried to get used to them, but order came eventually and it was possible to see that a few of the oars were keeping time with the beat of the drum. Marcellus made sure that they had plenty of food and water available, knowing it was exhausting work on the sun-drenched beach. He also had a strict guard mounted, to make sure that none of his precious sailors escaped.
‘We do not allow civilians in the camp,’ said Aquila again, ‘and I am not much given to repeating myself.’
Cholon gave him the full shocked treatment, the ‘how dare you speak to me like that?’ look. It had no effect whatever.
‘I would remind you that I’m here at the personal invitation of Titus Cornelius.’
‘How can you remind me of something I don’t know?’
‘That’s sophistry, young man.’
‘What the hell is sophistry?’ Aquila saw that Cholon was about to explain and held up his hand. ‘Don’t bother to explain. I’ve got through this far in life without knowing, so it’s obviously something I can do without.’
Cholon bridled. ‘Has anyone ever told you that you’re an insolent swine?’
‘From the day I was born and every waking moment since, but I’m also in charge here. Now do me a favour and piss off out of the camp.’
‘Titus Cornelius will hear of this.’
The shout nearly knocked Cholon over. ‘Guards, get this man out of here and remind the sentries on the gate: no civilians allowed, regardless of what fairy story they come up with!’
The young tribune escorting him tried to ease the pain caused by Aquila’s words. ‘The general will be back soon, sir. I’m sure that everything will work out all right in the end.’
The tribune, who was more afraid of Aquila than the comfort of this Greek civilian, was hurrying Cholon along at a terrific pace, which made his response sound like that of a man just arrested protesting his innocence.
‘Not with people like that in positions of power. The man is a positive oaf. I don’t know what the legions are coming to, letting men like that become officers. What did you say the fellow’s name was?’
‘Aquila Terentius, sir,’ said the tribune.
‘Well, he’s a barbarian,’ replied Cholon, but he was also wondering, vaguely, where he’d heard the name before.
Titus Cornelius returned to a different camp. Now it resounded to the clashing of swords, instead of the calls of the traders and any pained shouts came from soldiers, not abused and fractious camp wives. The ragged children who had run half-naked through the streets were gone too, leaving the horses free from torment. Aquila had built another camp five miles away to house them, which he kept supplied by a levy on his soldiers, as well as the Iberian auxiliaries. And they were soldiers again; that was obvious by the efficient way they moved into position around the oration platform. But Titus had known before that, from the guard at the main gate, smart and alert; indeed the horns had sounded when he was half a league away. By the time he had reached the camp, the proconsul found a hot bath waiting, as well as all his officers eager to discuss forthcoming operations. Before he changed, they held a conference and Aquila was not the only one surprised by his stated intention to set off for the interior straightaway.
‘Don’t be fooled by a bit of spit and polish, General,’ he said. ‘If you tell these men that they’re goin’ to march into the middle of Iberia, they won’t go.’
‘Not even if you tell them?’
‘I can’t lie to them!’
‘I don’t want you to. Why can’t we attack now?’
Aquila sighed, and he could not hide his disappointment at having to explain to one of the first consuls he had ever admired why it couldn’t be done. ‘All the conditions that applied to Pallentia apply here, tenfold. We’ve got further to go. Instead of building a few bridges, we’ll have to construct a dozen. Every inch of the road we build will have to be guarded if supplies are to get through. If we do that, we won’t have the troops to attack.’
‘I don’t intend to attack, at least not right away.’
‘Then forgive me, General, but how in the name of Hades Hall do you expect to win?’
Titus indicated the map on the table and gestured for those present to come closer. ‘We march straight to our goal. We will bridge only those rivers we can’t ford and we’ll destroy them behind us. Once we get to Numantia we’ll need to live off the land for perhaps a month, then I can release two legions to build a road back to the coast so that we can be supplied.’
‘And Brennos, what will he be doing? Not to mention the Lusitani.’
Titus interrupted Aquila, speaking with a confidence that he certainly did not completely feel. ‘Marcellus Falerius will take care of the latter, and before you ask how, I’m not going to say anything other than this; that he has my full confidence.’
‘That still leaves Brennos.’
‘Don’t worry about him, Aquila Terentius. I have a plan that will take care of him and his hill fort.’
Freshly washed and in his purple-bordered toga, Titus walked onto the oration platform. He looked around the massed rank of legionaries, all at attention, staring straight ahead. He quite deliberately saluted them, something no senator had ever done, unbidden, to a soldier. A loud and spontaneous cheer followed a moment’s silence as Titus turned and indicated that Aquila should join him on the platform.
‘Soldiers. I hate making speeches as much as you hate listening to them. My father used to tell my mother, when I wouldn’t sleep at night, that he’d repeat to me some of the things he’d heard said from up here. He claimed even the noisiest baby would be out cold within minutes.’
Titus paused then linked his arm with Aquila, who had come to stand beside him. ‘My father, Aulus Cornelius Macedonicus, was a great soldier, one of the best Rome ever had. I’m not a patch on him, so I intend to take out a bit of insurance.’ He walked forward to the edge of the platform, dragging Aquila with him. ‘As you know, when I
