cross frame with a footplate nailed into the riser. Macro glanced at it, but said nothing as he made small talk with his companion.
‘Good to see that we both made centurion,’ said Macro. ‘It took me a fair amount of time, and the usual helping of good luck. How about you? You were transferred out of the Second fairly quickly, as I recall.’
Severus nodded. ‘They were stripping men from the Rhine to fill out the ranks of the legions earmarked for a campaign across the Danuvius into Scythia. Where our commander hails from originally. As you can imagine, I keep quiet about that part of my career.’
‘He’s not the commander any longer. The fort has a new prefect now.’
Severus shot him a quick look. ‘You think so? I doubt that Quertus is going to hand over control of the garrison that easily.’
‘He has no choice. Chain of command.’
Severus laughed bitterly. ‘I think you’ll find that things operate a little differently at Bruccium.’ He changed the subject. ‘So what happened to the rest of the lads in the section after I left the Augusta?’
Macro scratched his jaw as he recalled their old comrades. ‘Postumus was drowned when his boat capsized on a river patrol. Lucullus was bitten by a hunting dog. The wound went bad and killed him. Barco, the big bastard, you remember? He got picked for the legate’s bodyguard, then caught the eye of Caligula and was transferred to the Praetorian Guard. Last I heard he’d got a promotion to centurion in the fleet at Misenum. Aculeus became a clerk at headquarters and was discharged for fiddling the books. Piso was killed in a skirmish with some Germans who had refused to cough up their taxes, and Marius, well, you’ll find this one hard to believe: Marius was kicked to death by a mule.’
They both laughed before Severus looked at his companion curiously. ‘I heard something about your promotion to centurion. I gather you were summoned to Rome to be decorated and promoted by Claudius himself.’
‘Yes,’ Macro replied quickly. ‘Just a bit of a ceremony, a few months’ leave in the city and back to the Rhine.’
‘Oh.’ Severus looked disappointed. ‘I heard rumours there was more to it than that.’
‘So how did you end up here?’ Macro clumsily redirected the conversation. ‘Bruccium, the absolute arse end of the empire.’
Severus shrugged. ‘You go where you are sent. Ostorius is determined to push on and crush the last centre of resistance to Rome. So he’s been constructing a number of big forts like this, strong enough to hold off any attacks and with enough men to make life difficult for the surrounding tribes. The forts are out on a limb, but that was a risk the governor was prepared to take, with our lives.’
Macro glanced round. ‘Some forts are more out on a limb than others.’
‘Tell me about it.’
‘I was rather hoping you’d tell me.’
Severus said quietly, ‘Not out here.’
He raised his hand and pointed out the end of a barrack block twenty paces ahead. ‘That’s mine. Home to the Second Century, Fourth Cohort, Fourteenth Legion. Or what’s left of my century. The cohort commander’s quarters are there at the end of the street.’
‘Who is the ranking centurion at the moment?’
‘That would be me. It should be Stellanus but he’s gone over to the Thracians. As it is, only Petillius and I are left. And we’ve barely enough men to fill out the ranks of two centuries.’
‘Two centuries?’ Macro raised his eyebrows. The full complement of a legionary cohort was four hundred and eighty men, organised into six centuries of eighty soldiers. Barely a third of that number remained. ‘What happened to the rest?’
They had reached the door to Severus’s quarters and he ushered Macro inside. An orderly had been sitting by the small fireplace warming himself and he jumped to his feet as the officers entered.
‘Titus, build the fire up, then fetch me a jug of wine from my stores.’ He turned to Macro. ‘Have you eaten?’
Macro shook his head.
‘Then bring us some bread. Any of the cheese left?’
‘No, sir. You ate the last of it two days ago. Same with the bread. There’s biscuit, sir.’
Severus sighed. ‘Biscuit then, and more bloody dried mutton.’
The orderly bowed his head and then turned his attention to the fire, carefully stacking some split logs on to the low flames.
‘Trouble with food supplies?’ Macro queried.
‘Not if you like salted or dried mutton and biscuit. Quertus has resorted to living off the natives as part of his effort to cut himself free from Glevum. It means we eat what Quertus and his men pillage from their villages. Since their crops have only recently been planted that leaves only what they set aside for winter.’
‘Well, I’m hungry enough to eat anything. And not a little thirsty.’
‘Happily, in that regard I can provide you with something a little more interesting than the native beer which would otherwise be all that is on the menu.’
‘Beer?’
‘That’s what they call it. Frankly, I’ve smelled more appetising horse piss. But Quertus is happy for the men to drink the stuff. Reckons a plain diet helps them keep their minds focused on killing.’
The orderly finished building the fire and left the room. Macro was keen to press Severus on his earlier question. ‘Seems like there’s been a lot of that on both sides. So what happened to the rest of the Fourth Cohort?’
‘We started losing men as soon as we arrived in the valley and began work on the fort. Nothing serious, just the usual skirmishes when the natives had a crack at our lumber parties. Then, when the fort was ready, the prefect began to send patrols out into the valley. We were under orders to take the fight to men under arms only. The rest were to be left unharmed. We were even encouraged to trade with them.’ Severus smiled. ‘Seems the prefect had some quaint notion that there’s more ways to build an empire than simply using force.’
‘Yes, I’ve come across his kind myself.’ Macro sighed. ‘Bloody odd notions of how to go about the business of being a soldier.’
‘Quite. Anyway, the Silures were happy to stage ambushes and harass the patrols, and then hide their weapons and slip back into their villages as if nothing had happened, and we had to go along with it. Except for Quertus. He refused. His unit had been fighting the Silures for years, and he argued that he knew their mind, and that the prefect’s approach was futile. Maybe he’s right. He should know. A few years earlier, before he was promoted to command the unit, he was captured, along with the survivors of a squadron he led. It seems the Silures held them for some months, and killed a handful off, before handing the rest over to the Druids to sacrifice. Quertus managed to escape, after he’d seen his companions burned alive. So I guess he has some grasp of the way the Silures live and think. In any case it convinced him that they could never be won over. More than that, he thinks that they can only be defeated if we turn their barbarism on them, and make the Silures as afraid of Romans as we are of the Druids.’
Macro puffed his cheeks. ‘So that’s his strategy?’
Severus lowered his voice as he continued. ‘It’s only half the story. Quertus knew that those who follow him need to be committed to his way of waging war. That’s why he’s encouraged his men to change their appearance and go back to the old ways of Thrace. He began to change their training, making them concentrate on killing, and absolute obedience to his will. One day he brought back some prisoners from a village at the far end of the valley. Twenty or so men, women, and a handful of kids. He had them tied to stakes on the training ground below the fort and then ordered his men to use them for spear practice. One of the men refused, and Quertus took his sword out and killed him on the spot. I didn’t see it happen, but I’m told he showed no emotion when he did it, and simply told his men that the same would happen to them if they ever refused an order.’
‘Shit. . That’s taking things a bit too far.’
‘That’s what Prefect Albius thought.’
They were interrupted by the return of the orderly who set down a jar, two cups and a wooden platter on which he had arranged a few strips of dried mutton and a handful of barley-flour biscuits. He bowed his head and left the room, closing the door behind him. Severus waited until he heard the man’s footsteps receding before he
