Betrayal: The Centurions I

by Riches, Anthony

  The centurion leaned forward expectantly.

  ‘Legatus Fabullus will lead the Fifth on the advance south into Gaul, along with four cohorts drawn from the Fifteenth and further vexillations from the First Germanica and the Sixteenth Gallica to form a double strength legion fit for battle against Galba’s men. But two cohorts of the Fifth will not march south when the rest of the legion leaves, and yours is one of them. The Fifteenth’s legatus will assume overall command of the remaining men of his own legion and those two cohorts, and the resulting force will stay here and watch the frontier until such time as the emperor is ready to ride south, at which time it is expected that you will accompany him. The cohorts that will stay here in the Old Camp will be the seventh and the ninth. It’s to be expected, they’re the weakest men we have and still in need of further training and conditioning.’

  Marius closed his eyes in silent comment, and Decimus looked up at him with a sympathetic expression.

  ‘It’s not what you wanted to hear, I can understand that. Most of your brother officers are heading off to war against an enemy who they expect will stand little chance of offering any genuine resistance, and will fight for the empire on the side of right, while you stay here to babysit two cohorts of raw recruits. But it’s not all bad news, or at least not for you, Marius. You’re the best centurion in the two cohorts we’re leaving behind, so I’m temporarily appointing you as First Spear to command those two cohorts in my absence. And if you think that sounds like a meaningless promotion then I suggest you think again. Our new emperor Vitellius has ordered the recruitment and training of as many men as can be squeezed out of the local area, and he’s temporarily suspended the citizenship qualification.’

  He nodded at Marius’s look of surprise.

  ‘I know. More than one of the senior centurions has complained to their legati that their legions will be diluted unnecessarily, but I have to say that I don’t hold with that view. A man who’s not a citizen is no worse a soldier than a man whose father served, and this is a good chance to get some fresh blood into the legion, so I want you to grasp this opportunity with both hands. It means that you can recruit on both sides of the Rhenus, and you’re going to have get about it smartly, because the emperor’s instruction was for us to at least double the size of the forces that remain behind, and to do so by the time whatever army Galba can put into the field has been destroyed. So get recruiting, Marius, and when you’ve gathered all the men that can be found, ride them like slaves until they’re hard enough to stand alongside the rest of the legion. I’m counting on you to have a decent-sized pool of trained replacements ready when you march to join us, because the fight to put Galba’s men away isn’t going to be as easy as the hotheads would like to think.’

  He leaned forward and lowered his voice conspiratorially.

  ‘And while you’re busy recruiting and training the men I’ll need to replace my battle losses I want you to keep one more thing in mind. Something I want more than anything else.’

  Marius nodded, saying the name he guessed was on his superior’s mind.

  ‘Civilis?’

  ‘Civilis. I want that bastard traitor dead. So you make sure that Legatus Lupercus doesn’t have an attack of guilt and exercise his power to free the man, right? And when he’s dead I want his body taken back to his people. Dress it up as Rome honourably allowing them the chance to bury him if you like, but I want them to see that he’s dead. That’s the best way to break their will, I’d say. Remember that, Centurion – and don’t let me down.’

  Marius stood, pulled his helmet back on and saluted. The word ‘Centurion’ told him that the informal part of the interview was over. Only unhesitating acceptance remained.

  ‘I won’t let you down, First Spear! We will do what is ordered and at every command we will be ready!’

  Outside the headquarters building he found Gaius waiting on the steps, watching the organised chaos that was the two legions’ preparation for war.

  ‘Your orders were as you expected, I gather, from the unhappy expression you’re wearing?’

  Marius shook his head in disgust.

  ‘The Seventh and the Ninth get to stay here and learn how to tie their own shoelaces, while you and I recruit and train as many barbarians as can be dug out of the tribes on both sides of the river. We might escort Vitellius south, once the army’s torn the arms and legs off anything sent to block their path to Rome and beaten whatever’s left to death with the wet ends, but in the meantime we’re to do nothing of any more value than persuade the local boys to join up and then break it to them that they’ve just made the worst decision of their lives. Oh, and he also expects me to ensure that Civilis is executed, and take the body back to Batavodurum to make sure the Batavians know what’s happened. Nothing more challenging than that.’

  His friend fell in alongside him as Marius started walking.

  ‘Look on the bright side, Marius. With over half the fortress emptied out, the local whores are going to be a good deal keener to please than is usually the case. And the price of wine will come down too, because there won’t be enough mouths drinking the stuff for the innkeepers to keep on charging their usual extortionate prices.’

  The newly promoted senior centurion shook his head in negation of the argument.

  ‘What you’re forgetting in your eagerness to cheer me up is that I’m specifically charged with recruiting and training at least two more cohorts of men, if not double that, once the rest of the legion has buggered off and left us sitting with a double-sized fortress full of empty barracks. Which I’ll be trying to do in the face of a dozen taverns offering cut-price beer and a population of whores who, if they weren’t bright enough to go with the boys that march south, will be desperate for coin and only too capable of bribing their way in here with their cunts and then using those empty barracks for an alternative purpose to sleep. Any suggestions you might have as to how to keep the recruits’ attention on sword practice that doesn’t involve their cucumbers would be much appreciated.’

  ‘Marius! Centurion Marius!’

  Both men turned to see who it was that had called out to them, snapping to attention as they realised that they had been followed from the principia by an officer wearing the instantly recognisable tunic of a man with senatorial rank, a thick purple stripe over one shoulder, and with a gold ring on his right hand. Legatus Lupercus was in his mid-forties, old for a legion commander, a man with the reputation of being a man for whom military service was his calling rather than a step on the cursus honorum. His experience, it was said, included time as a legion tribune in Britannia, spells as an auxiliary prefect in both Syria and Dacia, a return to Britannia as a cavalry tribune and finally, after a tour of duty commanding a legion intended for Nero’s aborted campaign in the east, his appointment the previous year to lead the Fifteenth, one of the empire’s younger legions and clearly in need of an experienced leader to develop their skills and reputation. Grey at the temples, lean of face, and with a thick white scar cut into his left cheek just below the eye as evidence of his combat experience, he was a good deal fitter than his colleague Fabulus despite being ten years older, the result of punishing daily exercise with the men of his bodyguard. The gladius that hung at his left hip was an old and well-used weapon, the very obvious dent in its handguard the evidence, it was rumoured, of his time with the famed Fourteenth Legion during the conquest of Britannia, and his legion’s opinion of him had swiftly mellowed from the usual disdain for yet another senator with little clue about warfare to a healthy respect for a man who clearly knew which end of his sword to use on an enemy and, more importantly, how.

  ‘My apologies for hailing you on the street, Centurion, I intended speaking to you in the principia but missed you as a result of a discussion with my camp prefect. The blasted man will insist on choosing the worst moments to discuss matters of supply. You are Centurion Marius? First Spear of the 5th Alaudae’s seventh cohort?’

  Marius saluted, Gaius following
his example an instant later.

  ‘Yes, Legatus. This is Centurion Gaius, one of my officers.’

  ‘And I’m Quintus Munius Lupercus, legatus commanding the Fifteenth Primigenia. I believe that you’ll be reporting to me, once my colleague Fabius Fabullus has led the Fifth and most of my own legion south. Legatus Augusti Valens has charged me with bringing the Fifteenth back up to full fighting strength and capability as quickly as possible, in order to be able to resist any further challenge that might arise to Vitellius’s power once we have dealt with the pretender Galba. Since my own First Spear will be marching south with our vexillium behind your legion’s eagle, I’m going to be depending on you to help me recruit and train four cohorts to replace those I’m releasing to Valens’s command.’

  Marius nodded confidently, repeating the standard response to any command, no matter how unwelcome.

  ‘Yes, Legatus! We will do what is ordered and at every command we will be ready!’

  Lupercus nodded briskly.

  ‘Thank you, Centurion. I can see that we’re going to have an excellent relationship. Once the legions have marched south, I plan to hold a dinner party for the officers who are left behind, a morale-building celebration of the fact that we’re trusted with the defence of the frontier at a time like this. And who knows, the emperor himself may find the time to be present and to favour us with his wisdom.’ Marius could have sworn the legatus was smirking, but the expression was fleeting. ‘Perhaps you’ll be able to spare the time from what are bound to be onerous duties to attend?’

  Marius nodded again, his face’s long ingrained immobility masking the incredulity seething beneath its imperturbable surface.

  ‘It would be an honour and a pleasure, Legatus!’

  Lupercus’s lips twitched in the smallest intimation of a smile.

  ‘Excellent. I’ll inform you of the details in due course. And now, if you’ll excuse me …’

  He nodded and turned away, leaving the two centurions staring after him as he strode away towards the headquarters building.

  ‘Fuck. Me.’ Gaius stared after the legatus in unfeigned amazement. ‘Did that really just happen? Did you really just get invited to go and lie on a couch and drink wine with the rich people? You? A man who didn’t even own a pair of shoes until you joined up.’

  Marius stared after the legatus for a moment before answering.

  ‘I know. And I’m buggered if I have a clue what they get up to at these dinners, or even what they wear. But it won’t be scale armour and army boots, no matter how well they’re polished.’

  A thought occurred to him, and he closed his eyes in disgust at the realisation that he had just become the servant of two masters.

  ‘What’s wrong now? You’ve just been invited to hobnob with the rich and idle and you’re pulling a face like a recruit who’s paid for the full hour and stained his tunic at the first touch.’

  Marius turned on his friend with a tight smile.

  ‘What it is, brother, is that when I saw the real First Spear just now he charged me with recruiting and training as many men as possible to act as casualty replacements for the Fifth, when we rejoin. He reckons that there’s going to be a battle for the throne at some point, and the fact that all the other legions are only sending vexillia to follow our eagle is going to put the Fifth right in the middle of the fight. And now Legatus Lupercus tells me that he wants to replace the four cohorts he’s detaching to join the march south – four bloody cohorts, Gaius – in order to be ready for any challenge to Vitellius’s power. So I reckon I’m fucked all ends up, brother. That’s what’s wrong with me.’

  His friend shrugged.

  ‘Well that’s easy enough. Just get Decimus to ask Legatus Fabullus to issue you with an order to recruit and train as many men as you can get your hands on, for the Fifth Legion. Let him and Lupercus argue it out once whatever we can scrape up and batter into shape is ready to serve, eh? I think you’ve got a bigger problem than who gets the recruits, or even what to wear to a legatus’s dinner party.’

  Marius shook his head.

  ‘I defy you to show me something worse than either of those little questions.’

  Gaius looked at him with a look that spoke volumes.

  ‘Your problem, old son, isn’t your wardrobe, and it’s not the allocation of soldiers between legions. Money will solve the one, and the legati can dispute the other between themselves. Your problem, brother, is that the moment the Fifth marches out of the gates with half the Fifteenth along for the ride, and the same all down the river, I expect, the local tribes are going to tell their boys that haven’t already volunteered to find somewhere to hide when the recruiting centurions come calling. They’ll know that we’ll be desperate for new blood, and they’ll know that we’re not always all that choosy as to who we bring back with us, volunteers or forced men. The problem won’t be dividing the new boys up, it’ll be having any new boys to worry about at all.’

  5

  The Old Camp, Germania Inferior, January AD 69

  ‘I didn’t think it was going to feel this bad.’

  Gaius nodded gloomily at his friend’s sentiment.

  ‘Nor did I. Look at them.’

  They stared emptily at the powerful force paraded before them, the available space barely sufficient to contain its massive strength. Eight cohorts of their own Fifth legion provided the leadership and the eagle beneath which another four cohorts each of the Fifteenth Primigenia, Sixteenth Gallica and the First Germanica would fight, between them forming a double strength legion numbering ten thousand men, fully equipped and ready for war, with a long line of horse drawn wagons carrying tents, equipment and food waiting behind them for the order to move out. The legion’s centurions were making their final inspections before declaring their centuries and cohorts ready to march, the occasional raised voice and commotion marking those men who were being found wanting in their preparedness. The two men both smiled at one particularly loud scream of anger from deep in the body of waiting soldiers.

  ‘That should have been us. They’re going to march south, gather up all the glory and leave us here nursemaiding whatever recruits we can scrape up from the tribes.’

  Gaius nodded again.

  ‘Who’ll know only too well that we’ll be coming and will make sure there’s nobody available except the elderly, the lame and the idiot. Look, here comes the new legatus augusti.’

  Walking out in the middle of an ostentatious bodyguard of a dozen picked soldiers, Fabius Valens had come to take command of his army. The man who had persuaded Vitellius to take the purple, he had been rewarded with command of the force that was to march south to the capital of Gallia Lugdunensis, and there add the famed First Italica to its strength before crossing the maritime Alps into northern Italy.

  ‘Doesn’t he love himself?’

  Marius laughed softly at his comrade.

  ‘Don’t they all?’ His mouth twisted in a bitter line. ‘And besides, he’s leading the best part of two legions to war. By the time he’s collected the First Italica at Lugdunum and all the auxiliaries that have been ordered to join up, he’ll have at least twenty-five thousand men at his back, and he’s invading Italy. He probably thinks he’s the divine Julius come again, off to cross the Rubicon at the head of an unstoppable army. Ah, here comes the real man of the hour.’

  Senior centurion Decimus was walking out in the new legatus augusti’s wake, overlooked in the excitement of Valens’s magnificent appearance but looking no less impressive in his own way.

  ‘The sly bastard! Look, he’s still got his phalerae!’

  The gilded silver discs that had been removed from the older man’s chest harness when Vitellius had made his appeal for gold and silver had been replaced, as, on closer inspection, had the torques that hung around his neck and the bracelets that decorated his wrists. Spotting the two men he walked across to them, putting both hands on his hips and laughing softly at the looks on their faces.

  ‘Two sorr
ier specimens I have yet to see. Anyone would have thought that you’d been demoted, Marius, rather than having been given the opportunity to serve as a First Spear with your very own vexillation to command. Not to mention the fact that your new legatus is one of the very few who doesn’t look as wet behind the ears as a dwarf in a pissing contest, unlike the half-wit I’ve been saddled with. All things considered, given we’re off to war just now and likely to be facing Galba’s legions somewhere in northern Italy a month or two from now, I’d say you’ve got the best part of the bargain.’ He stood and waited for Marius to respond, his smile twisting wryly as his subordinate looked down at the ground. ‘I might think that, of course, but you’d be hard pressed to agree, wouldn’t you?’

  The younger man looked up at him, his eyes heavy with disappointment.

  ‘Congratulations on your appointment to be the First Spear of the army, Centurion. I wish you joy of your new command, and I will pray that you come back to us safely, with tales to tell of the legion’s doings in the south.’

  Decimus smiled knowingly.

  ‘Thank you, Marius.’ His gaze shifted to Gaius. ‘Keep an eye on this one, Centurion. He’s going to need chivvying along, I think you’ll find, daydreaming of battles, and glory, and a victory parade through Rome behind a forest of captured eagles and standards. What he’s not going to be thinking about is the strong possibility that this fucking idiot …’ he nodded his head in the direction of Valens, ‘is going to allow his apparent thirst for that self-same glory to dismiss the fact that his military experience could be written in a message tablet with a pugio for a stylus. What with him, and the other chinless fool that’s been given command of the army of Germania Superior’s march south, I suspect we might find ourselves hard pressed to fight our way out of a brothel bedchamber, never mind across the Alps, all the way down Italy and into Rome. Not if Galba has half a brain, and actually appoints someone who’s fought a campaign to command his armies. The gods know the choice isn’t exactly a thin one, what with all the wars that Rome’s fought in the last twenty years.’