‘Can’t wait to meet the rest of them. But Carbo, I’m going to tell Caesar I need you. Atenos, too. It’s all well and good having a lot of experienced officers, but I’ve never met any of them. I want someone I can rely on. I want you as my camp prefect and Atenos as my primus pilus. Given Decius in charge of the auxilia , Galronus with the cavalry , and my singulares and my staff to rely on , I’m more confident about this. Besides, since we’ll be settling even the centurions as we go, I need a core of officers who aren’t going to set up home and leave me as we move.’
Carbo grinned. ‘ I’m yours if Caesar will let me go.’
‘Same here,’ Atenos chuckled. ‘And I’d love to see my legate’s face when he gets word from the general.’
‘I don’t like the idea of some prat leading my legion,’ Fronto grumbled.
‘The Tenth aren’t yours now, Fronto. You have the Hundred-and-Tenth.’
‘What?’
‘Their average age,’ snorted Atenos , and he and C arbo exploded with laughter.
* * *
T he legion was forming on the parade ground of Samarobriva before Fronto and his group had even descended the hill toward the gate. Someone in command here was clearly horribly efficient. While that went some way toward allaying Fronto’s fears, it also irked him, as he’d already pre-judged his new command to be troublesome and inefficient.
‘ They look good,’ Aurelius noted as they rode toward the flattened area with the tribunal podium for the officers. And they did. They looked a proper legion. They should do , Fronto reminded himself nastily , with a combined experience of a hundred th ousand years. He sighed. As the riders closed on them , the legion look ed slightly less impressive. The helmets hid a lot from some distance, but closer up, they were largely old men. Oh, there were a few young ‘uns among them, who had only served a five year term, or ten years, and who had accepted their discharge without wanting to go on in the hope of acquiring endless loot. But mostly they were of an age to call Fronto ‘son’.
Yet they stood tall, and not one was out of position. It was a good sign. Finally, as the last men fell into place, the centurions stepped out beside their units, the most senior at the front of the legion. As they reached the parade ground and dismounted, Fronto handed his reins to a waiting equisio – yes, someone really was being efficient – and with his seven companions strode to the tribunal. A man in a senior officer’s uniform was wai ting there with a small command party bearing the standard of the Twelfth.
Fronto peered into the faces of his centurions as he passed, noting their steady gaze, their… experienced … features, and their clear efficiency. As he peered into one such face, he recoiled involuntarily, since some sort of grotesque seemed to have donned a helm with a transverse crest. It took him but a moment to realise that this was the Bassus of whom Carbo had told him – the one they called Pulcher. The hideous centurion gave him a smile of acknowledgement, and the grin actually made him uglier. Fronto tried to plaster an easy smile on his face in return as he passed, though he feared it probably looked more startled than warm .
Quickly, he bounded up the steps to the tribunal. Though the action made his knee ache, the comment about most of the retirees being his age seemed to have lodged somewhere in his subconscious and was making him try to act like a young man in defiance.
The legionary commander already there nodded professionally. He was a good decade or two younger than the visiting legate , and Fronto fought against disliking him on principle. He lost quickly.
‘Gnaeus Favonius Flavinus, commanding Twelfth legion,’ the man said by way of greeting.
‘Marcus Falerius Fronto, commanding… er… this legion,’ Fronto replied , slightly sheepishly.
‘How long before you take them out, L egate?’ Favonius asked, with an edge to his voice.
‘A week or two. As soon as everything else is ready,’ Fronto noted.
‘Good. I’m looking forward to them being your problem.’
And with that simple comment, the legion became Fronto’s, because he was damned if he would have his men, no matter how decrepit or strange they might be, spoken of in such a manner by an officer from a different unit.
‘That they will,’ he replied coldly. ‘And fear not, for I’ll keep them out of your hair in the meantime. I intend to take them on a march for a few days to give them a run-in.’
‘Good,’ Favonius said with feeling, and walked past Fronto without another word, down the steps and away from the tribunal. Fronto waited patiently for the man and his escort to leave the parade ground and return to the fort. ‘Nice fellow,’ Masgava said quietly. ‘His face would look good with five knuckles stuck in it.’
‘Then he’d look more like Pulcher,’ Fronto said, with feeling.
‘Men of the… er… the legion…’ Fronto started in a loud, clear voice . It was odd. There were no standards and no flags. There was no eagle. This couldn’t be a proper legion without an eagle.
‘Sod it,’ he said aloud, still addressing the legion directly. ‘ You look like a legion, and you’re all obviously experienced, but you’ll never feel like a legion until you have the standards of one . As soon as I get back to Nemetocenna, I’m going to have the fabrica there produce us an eagle and some standards and vexilla. And I can’t just keep calling you ‘the legion’. But you can’t have a number, since you’ve not officially been raised as a new legion. So I’m going to call you the Legio Evocati . The legion of veterans . I’ll have Caesar’s bull put on the flags , too . You and I and my friends here are going to be together for a while, face some hairy bastards with bad attitudes and worse breath, and settle Gaul once and for all. Are you with me?’
He almost fell off the back of the podium with the roar that suddenly burst forth from the men . Well, they certainly didn’t lack spirit.
‘I am Marcus Falerius Fronto, formerly of the Tenth. Since all of you have served more than five years you’ll probably know of me, and I suspect a number of you will have come from the Tenth, so you’ll have served with me.’ There was another roar, smaller but more enthusiastic. ‘I probably know a few of you personally , in fact. In case you don’t know me or my friends, I fought at the Sabis and the Axona. I defended Bibrax. I helped end the Helvetii and Ariovistus. I was at Gergovia and Alesia, and over in Britannia too. I was at Aduatuca and Avaricon. And I’ve yet to be at a battle where I didn’t get blood on my blade. I’m no young fop with a commission from the senate and the desire to run home to papa so I can climb the ladder as soon as I can. I am a soldier, not a politician. And you lot might be on the cusp o f taking it easy, but until you hold that diploma , you’re still soldiers of Rome, so I expect the very best from each and every one of you. Is that clear?’
The affirmative shout almost knocked him off the tribunal again. He smiled. Alright, he’d been prejudging rather badly, it seemed. These were his kind of men.’
‘ And because this is not an official legion, we are not sent tribunes from Rome to run around and pour the drinks and get underfoot when important things are happening. So I’ve brought a few friends. This is Servius Fabricius Carbo, former primus pilus of the Tenth. He will serve as your camp prefect for the campaign.’ Carbo raised a hand, and stepped forward for a moment. ‘And this is Centurion Atenos, also a former primus pilus of the Tenth. He will be reprising that role for this force so my apologies if one of you were expecting that position .’ As Atenos stepped forth and raised his hand, there was no angry call from the crowd. Either the assignment hadn’t been given, or the deposed officer was content with the change .
‘Galronus is both Roman equestrian and Remi prince, so he knows the ways of Rome and her armies as well as any of you, but also has that Gallic talent with the horse. He will be leading the ala of regular cavalry.’ There was an uncomfortable silence, and Fronto noted the potential difficulty for later. It seemed that Galronus was not alone in seeing the difficulties over such a divide between peoples. ‘Galronus is also one of very few people he
re with personal knowledge of what we’ll be up against.’ He huffed and moved on.
‘ Masgava here will take on the role of senior tribune , and I see no need for a gaggle of squawking juniors , so he will essentially be my deputy in all circumstances. In the first instance, if you cannot speak to me, and the primus pilus is absent, Masgava is your man .’ The big Numidian stepped forth , then back. ‘Arcadios here is a master archer. He will be assigned as second in command of the auxilia when they arrive, and Biorix is a senior engineer. He will be assigned the rank of centurion and placed in charge of all engineering projects.’ The two men made themselves known. ‘And finally, Aurelius here will be my aide and personal guard. Don’t cross him. He’s been with me through situations that’d make your hair turn white. And that, I think, takes care of the introductions from my side. As soon as the parade is over and before I return to Nemetocenna for the night, I want to meet each and every centurion, signifer, tesserarius and musician in person. I won’t promise to remember all your names immediately, but I like to know who I’m going to be in battle with .’
Taking a deep breath, he exhaled loudly. ‘Have any of you been told what we’re to do?’
A centurion of roughly cuboid shape somewhere near the front shouted ‘I heard we’re bound for Hispania, sir. Just a rumour, but I’m hoping it’s true. There’s a lovely little whore house in Tarraco.’
Fronto stared at the man for a moment, then chortled. ‘Not quite, centurion…?’
‘Terpulo, sir.’
Oh yes. Terpulo. The one with the controlled emissions.
‘I’ve been warned about you, Terpulo. Planning to gas a few whores we re we?’
Laughter broke out among the men around Terpulo and he simply shrugged.
‘No,’ Fronto resumed. ‘ Sadly, Tarraco is not our destination, and your settlements and land grants will not be on that side of the mountains. We are bound for the Pyrenaei to put down some troublesome rebellious Aqu itanii and remind them what hob nails taste like. We need to impose control over the whole region, and you will all be settled in groups as we go. Your diplomas and the gold will travel with us, so guard that pack train very well . It will contain your future.’
He let it all settle in for a moment, then began the last part of his address. ‘ We will be leaving for Aquitanii lands as soon as the supply train is ready and the auxilia arrive. I am hoping this will be within the week, but certainly not more than two. If we march south at reasonable pace, we should reach out destination in time for Tubilustrum , when the campaigning season officially starts. Once we reach the last proper Roman outpost down there I intend to gather some native scouts to help us, too. And that’s the plan. I will discuss it in more detail with the officers as we travel south. In the meantime, however, I must return to Nemetocenna to arrange the standards and the eagle, and to confirm to the proconsul that all is proceeding according to plan . I will be back here with my men mid-morning tomorrow, and I expect you all to be packed up when I arrive, as we’re going on a little march to see how you work together. I think three days with a little combat drill can tell us a lot. Alright, Atenos, dismiss the legion.’
* * *
The first day of the march had rather opened Fronto’s eyes to his new command and deepened his respect for them. Not a single man dipped out of step, which was unheard of, even in the solid Tenth, over such a time and distance. Carbo had noted the variety of shield designs among the men, given the varied units they’d been drawn from, and had planned to have them all repaint their design, but Fronto had forestalled the plan and had instead had the units re-form so that all the men with one design were together, barring a few small units that were inevitably mixed. To his mind, not only would it make it easier to remember who was who in his new legion, but that also meant that men from one legion would be serving among former comrades, which would ease the transition to a single unit.
Even the oldest among the men, and Fronto had to estimate one particularly hoary fellow as over seventy, maintained their pace, even with a full pack hanging from their furca pole . And most of the men worked by instinct and experience now, having served so long. Rarely had a centurion to give one of the standard orders before it was already being obeyed. Give me a legion like this formed officially, Fronto mused, and I could conquer a province alone.
And as the sun sank behind the thick Gallic woodland just to the north, he’d been impressed at the speed with which the camp was dug and set. In truth, the ditches weren’t quite as deep as he’d normally demand, and the rampart not quite as high, but he put this down to expediency and the inevitable knowledge that this was just an exercise rather than inability or laziness.
As the torches were lit in the gathering gloom he le ft his companions at the camp’s centre, setting up the headquarters tent and their own accommodation, and began a tour of the ramparts. The sentries were all alert, he was pleased to find . He paused for a moment at a curious sight. A tall centurion was standing at one of the gates looking off into the distance, and some twenty paces away two soldiers were creeping toward him, slowly, on their toes. One was an optio, judging by the crest and the staff in his hand. The other wore a standard bearer’s helm, draped with a fox pelt. Fronto watched with interest as the pair closed on the centurion.
‘Piss off, the lot of you,’ barked the centurion without turning when the pair were still twenty paces away .
‘How’d you know?’ the optio said, straightening along with his friend.
‘I might have a blind eye, but you make more noise than a ballista, Statilius, and Cavo over there smells like a bear shat on him. You’ll have to do better than that.’
The two men laughed and turned, sauntering off. Fronto waited until they were some distance away, laughing, then crossed to the centurion, who turned and came to attention even as Fronto approached. Fronto recoiled automatically at the sight of Pulcher. Of course, he had a milky white eye.
‘ You put up with such foolishness with calm forbearance , centurion?’
The ugly officer shrugged. ‘Gotta let the men blow off steam eh, sir. Besides, a soldier’s only as serious as his commander, and they’re Terpulo’s underlings. In case you haven’t noticed yet, sir, Terpulo’s an idiot. A talented one, but an idiot, nonetheless.’
Fronto grinned. ‘You’d have done well in the Tenth while I was in command, Bassus.’
‘You might as well call me Pulcher, sir. Every other bastard does. Even my brother’s picked up the habit in his letters, the prick. But then he’s uglier than me, so we give him a bit of leeway.’
Fronto snorted his laughter. ‘What’s your opinion of the legion, Pulcher?’
‘ They’ll do you proud, sir. Might even find a few of them decide not to retire after all and refuse their diplomas when the time comes. It always sounds nice, but then you suddenly face the moment of putting down the shield and it seems less appealing. You wonder what in Hades you’ll do next. I’ve declined retirement three times now. I wasn’t planning on retiring now, in fact, but I’ve a woman in the baggage train who insists. Wants to settle down and raise ugly children , she does.’
Fronto laughed. ‘Women. Oddly, I know what you mean. I’ve retired twice, and here I am marching to Aquitania with a legion.’
‘You’ll do us proud too, then, sir. My one concern is that you’ll have to settle colonies as we go, which will gradually diminish our numbers. What happens then if we run into real trouble with half the lads spread across the region planting crops and building houses ?’
‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ Fronto replied, serious now. ‘I’ll set small units to start the colonies each time. No more than five hundred at most and probably a lot less, depending on circumsta nces. Then, when the job’s done all the remaining men can be disbanded and sent to bolster the fledgling settlements. Seems the best compromise.’
‘Very sensible, sir. Now that ,’ he added, pointing along the rampart, ‘is less sensible.’
Fronto followed the man’s
gaze and spotted the blocky, a lmost cuboid, form of centurion Terpulo in deep conversation with his two men. ‘Is he fit for the post, you think, Pulcher?’
‘Terpulo, sir? Hades, yes. One of the best officers in the legion.’
‘ Y ou called him an idiot?’
‘But a bloody good one, sir. Go watch him at work. If nothing else it’ll make you laugh.’
Fronto nodded and absented himself, striding over to the three officers, who were huddled conspiratorially.
‘Evening,’ he said by way of greeting. The three men turned and saluted, Terpulo replying for them. ‘Good even ing Legate. And a surprisingly fine one. We were about to engage on a game of Mister Rusty with the young feller on the next gate.’
‘I thought we were playing Ghost,’ complained the standard bearer.
‘Not on young Beaky,’ Terpulo replied. ‘When we find someone not paying attention you can Ghost him. Care to join us, Legate?’
‘I have not a clue what you’re talking about, Terpulo.’
‘Then you’re in for a treat, sir. Come with us and look like you’re deep in conversation with us.’
Fronto’s brow furrowed, but he smiled and followed the three of them. Some short distance away another gate stood in the ramparts, facing a stream a few hundred paces down the slope. There were two legionaries on guard duty.
‘See the bigger one, sir?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well the other one’s Truculus, and he’s an older legionary – a good man . But the big one? Don’t know him. He’s from the Eleventh according to his shield, and he’s young. Can’t have done more than a five year term . The young ‘uns are always fair game. I walked past him earlier and noticed the state of his helmet.’
Still confused, Fronto strode with them toward the unsuspecting young soldier. As they approached, Terpulo struck up a conversation about logistical difficulties, and Fronto found himself having to ad-lib a little conversation. Naturally, the two legionaries snapped to attention as the officers closed on them. The four officers were passing the guards when Terpulo stopped suddenly and turned to the young man.
Marius' Mules IX: Pax Gallica Page 5
