Fortress of Spears

by Anthony Riches

Laenas raised both eyebrows with surprise. Scaurus nodded in confirmation, willing his face not to reveal the amusement he was feeling at the look on the other man’s face.

  ‘I am your commanding officer, Popillius Laenas, and when I gather my officers I expect them all to salute me, including you. When I give a command, I expect the appropriate respect and a speedy response, with a salute. In short, Tribune, I expect you to behave in a way that recognises our relative ranks while your cohort forms part of my command.’

  The young aristocrat stared at him in amazement.

  ‘You’re seriously expecting me to salute you? But I’m …’

  Scaurus nodded, raising a hand to forestall the other man.

  ‘Yes, I know, you’re a broad-stripe tribune and you’ve only ever saluted your legatus who, like you, is of the senatorial class. And I, as we are both only too well aware, am an equestrian. The broad stripe on your tunic far outweighs the narrow stripe on mine, and in any other situation I would be the one deferring to superior rank. If I meet you in the street in Rome some day, then I will be the man showing respect for his social better, and I will do so promptly and with all due deference to your rank. Today, however, Tribune Laenas, you will have to adjust to the idea of saluting me, and you will have to make that adjustment quickly. Unlike some senior officers of my class, I do not intend to ignore the correct disciplines of this military life which we have chosen.’

  Laenas looked at him for so long that First Spear Frontinius was convinced he had decided to be deliberately insolent, and was tensed for the explosion that he knew such a reaction would elicit from Scaurus, but, to his relief, the young tribune simply raised one hand to his forehead, a look of bemusement on his face.

  ‘You’ll have to forgive me, Tribune, I’m not used to taking orders from anyone below the rank of the legion’s legatus. I’ll do my best to remember in future.’

  Scaurus nodded impassively.

  ‘Thank you, Tribune Laenas. I’m sure we’ll both soon get used to the idea, strange though it may be. And this is your first spear, I presume?’

  ‘Yes, Tribune, Senior Centurion Canutius.

  Canutius saluted crisply.

  ‘Tribune, the first cohort of Twentieth Valiant and Victorious is ready for detached duty. We have seven hundred and forty-three men fit for …’

  He stopped speaking as Scaurus raised a hand and pointed at something over Laenas’s shoulder.

  ‘My apologies, First Spear, but I think our detachment from the Petriana has arrived.’

  The horsemen of the Petriana wing were indeed making their appearance, each rider leading his horse down through the trees and into the morning sunlight. More than a few of the cavalrymen were leading a second horse, and as the squadrons began to form up facing end on to the infantry cohorts, Marcus realised that there were thirty or so empty saddles among the two-hundred-odd horsemen of his cavalry squadrons.

  Frontinius leaned close to his tribune’s ear, speaking quietly to avoid being overheard.

  ‘That’s strange, I thought we were being loaned six squadrons? I can only see five. That, and a lot of riderless horses.’

  Scaurus nodded thoughtfully.

  ‘You’re right. Let’s see what Tribune Licinius has to say on the subject.’

  The Petriana’s commander was the last man out of the forest, and he strode briskly across to Scaurus with a businesslike air, a vaguely familiar decurion walking behind him and leading a magnificent spirited black stallion which jerked at the reins every few seconds, its evident desire to be away across the rolling ground at a gallop manifest in every movement. His own grey horse was waiting for him at the forest’s edge, along with his personal bodyguard. Scaurus snapped to attention, followed by the three first spears and, a second later, Popillius Laenas. Licinius smiled lopsidedly, shaking his head gently.

  ‘There’s no need for you to be saluting me, Tribune, we’re of an equal rank now and you’ll only go embarrassing me in front of the governor or, worse still, a legatus.’ He looked around at the three first spears and Laenas, favouring them with a wintry smile. ‘Morning, gentlemen. Please do stand at ease while I take your tribune off for a quick chat.’

  He took Scaurus by the arm and led him a few paces away from the group of his officers, stopping to talk once there was no chance of their being overheard.

  ‘I haven’t got long, so we’ll have to make this quick. The rest of my command is champing at the bit to go north and get stuck back into those Venicone bastards. You’ve probably already worked out that I’m stretching my orders just a little, and giving you five full squadrons and one more consisting of horses whose riders were killed yesterday. We had a bit of a time of it, I’m afraid, so I’m assuming that you can spare me from giving you another thirty men by putting some of your own in their saddles. I’m putting my men under the command of Decurion Felix, a young man who’s not just an excellent officer, but also very well connected, if you take my meaning. Unlike some sons of influence, however, he insisted on starting his service as a cavalry squadron commander, despite the fact that his father could have pulled a few strings and seen him start off as a legion tribune like that fool Laenas. Apparently he wanted to see the life of a soldier from the ground up, a position which I find myself forced to respect given the capabilities of a certain legion tribune not far from here.’ He raised an eyebrow at the look on Scaurus’s face. ‘And yes, I can see you trying to work out where you’ve seen him before. He’s the man you rescued from the Votadini during the disaster at White Strength.’

  Scaurus nodded.

  ‘Oh yes, now I remember him. He had a barbarian hunting arrow stuck in his armpit less than a fortnight ago, as I recall. Are you really sure he’s fit for duty?’

  Licinius nodded briskly.

  ‘Centurion Corvus’s wife-to-be seems to have worked miracles, got the bloody thing out without causing any more damage than it had already inflicted on him, and I’m told he’ll make a full recovery soon enough. Just give him time for the wound to fully heal and you will find him to be not only an efficient officer, but a good fighting man to boot. I can’t take him back into the fight yet, though, and I can’t spare you anyone that’s fully fit, so you’re both going to have to make the most of it. Oh, and watch out for his horse, he’s a magnificent animal but he’s also an evil-tempered bugger. And now I must get back to my men, before they decide to ride north for revenge without me. I wouldn’t put it past them either, not with the mood they were in last night. The best of luck with your mission to liberate the poor old Votadini!’

  He clapped Scaurus on the shoulder and turned away, mounting his horse and riding back up the path with his bodyguard in close attendance. The tribune turned back to his own men, taking the measure of the decurion standing slightly apart from them.

  ‘We’ve met before, I think, Decurion Felix?’

  The other man nodded, raising his right arm gingerly in a careful salute.

  ‘Indeed we have, Tribune. I was lucky enough to be saved from the barbarians by that large German gentleman standing behind you and one of your centurions. They found me as good as dead, with an arrow sticking out of my armpit and poor old Hades here not much better off.’

  Scaurus nodded.

  ‘You’re the man that rode through the barbarian warband during the battle for White Strength and lived to tell the tale. You must have balls the size of goose eggs.’

  The decurion tilted his head to acknowledge the compliment.

  ‘Amulius Cornelius Felix, Tribune.’

  ‘And I’m Gaius Rutilius Scaurus, tribune commanding First and Second Tungrian Cohorts, and temporarily appointed to lead this detachment. How long is it since you were wounded, Decurion?’

  Felix frowned in concentration for a moment.

  ‘Fifteen days, Tribune.’

  ‘Just over two weeks? Are you sure that you’re fit enough for field duty?’

  The cavalryman smiled slightly.

  ‘Not really, but given another
week I’ll be perfectly fine. In the meantime I’m more than capable of riding and issuing these layabouts with orders, and we have another four decurions who can do the running around until I can lift a sword again.’

  ‘Tribune Licinius commends you as a competent officer, and tells me that you’ll be worth the wait. He also tells me to keep an eye open for your horse?’

  Felix smiled easily, pulling his mount’s head down until it was alongside his own, stroking the animal’s long face affectionately.

  ‘What, dear old Hades here? He’s what I suppose might be called a lively character, if he were a man. The first time I set eyes on him he was busy kicking lumps off another poor horse through a gap in the fence between them, and I knew straight away he’d be perfect for me. Just don’t get too close to his hindquarters, because like any good soldier he doesn’t like anybody or anything behind him that he can’t see. And he kicks like a bolt thrower.’

  ‘The tribune also explained why I can see so many empty saddles in your ranks, Decurion. He suggests that I find thirty riders from my three infantry cohorts, and group them into a sixth squadron. I think I may have an officer with the appropriate skills to lead them, but he’ll need a good double-pay to help him knock them into shape. Do you have anyone in mind?’

  Felix smiled easily, nodding slightly.

  ‘A man with the tact and diplomacy required for turning infantrymen into cavalrymen? Oh yes, Tribune, I’ve got just the man for the job.’

  ‘Fuck me, you lot have got to be pulling my bowstring!’

  Decurion Felix’s double-pay man stalked down the line of volunteers with a pained expression, shaking his head unhappily. Tribune Scaurus’s announcement of a requirement for men with riding skills had prompted twenty or so men from each of the Tungrian cohorts to step out of the ranks of their centuries, ignoring the insults and abuse their fellow soldiers had rained upon them, and a similar number of legionaries had volunteered from the 1st Cohort. Marcus had stayed put with his century until Tribune Scaurus had taken him to one side, and bluntly ordered him to volunteer.

  ‘For one thing, those men are going to need an officer, and you’re probably the only man on the field other than me with anything like proper cavalry training. And for another, just in case I need to remind you, your heroics of yesterday have once again swollen your reputation in the army to the point where the wrong people are going to be asking questions. You’ll be better off out of sight scouting out in front of the main force for a while, I’d say. You can take my man Arminius with you, it’ll be amusing to see him on a horse again, and perhaps he’ll be of some use to you.’

  Nodding his understanding with an impassive expression, Marcus had saluted and walked out to join the group of men nervously waiting to see what being a cavalryman was going to mean to them. Double-Pay man Silus gave him an astonished glance before turning back to face the volunteers, recomposing his face into the expression of disgust he’d been wearing before noticing the centurion’s unexpected presence.

  ‘Cavalrymen? Most of you lot – yourself obviously excepted, Centurion – wouldn’t have been judged fit to shovel shit out of the stables when I joined up. You’re not bloody cavalrymen, you’re just a shower of footslogging mules, and that’s all you’re good for. Come on, there must be some of you that want to fuck off now, and spare me the bother of telling you to bugger off once it becomes clear that you’re all bloody useless? No …?’ He sighed and shook his head with exasperation. ‘Are you sure about this, Decurion?’

  Felix nodded tersely.

  ‘Yes, Double-Pay, and preferably before the three cohorts standing watching us die of boredom.’

  Evidently exasperated, Silus beckoned one of the riders forward from the ranks, spoke to him for a moment and then turned back to the volunteers. The cavalryman led his horse out of the squadron’s ranks and stood waiting, the animal bending its neck to crop at the plain’s lush grass.

  ‘We’ve got forty-seven of you mules, including the officer, and that needs to be reduced to the thirty-one men who’ll be riding instead of footslogging today, since that’s all the horses we have spare after yesterday’s fighting. So, here’s a simple test. All you have to do is get on that horse over there.’ He pointed to the sturdy mount now being held by its rider beside him. The horse was fully equipped, complete with a four-horned saddle and a leather chamfron to protect its snout, the eyes covered with perforated bronze eye guards. ‘She’s a docile enough beast, so I don’t expect she’ll kick too many of you, not unless you climb aboard her like you’re trying to take your pork sword to her after a night in the beer shop. Perhaps you’d like to go first, Centurion, and show the rest of your men what we’re looking for …?’

  Marcus gave Silus a long stare, holding his gaze until the other man looked away, before turning to the mare, taking stock of her size and apparent demeanour as he walked over to the animal. He took the bridle from her rider and gently pulled the beast’s head towards him, talking quietly into her ear, and stroking her muzzle gently. Once the animal was apparently comfortable with his presence, he took a slow sideways step towards the waiting saddle, continuing to stroke her neck, talking to the horse in soft tones. Grasping the saddle’s projecting front horn, he vaulted into the saddle, making light of the weight of his armour, and turned to address the watching infantrymen.

  ‘Soldiers, look closely and you’ll see that I’m deliberately relaxing on to the saddle here, and allowing it to flex under my weight, rather than sitting up stiffly. I’m doing that because that allows these saddle horns to grip my thighs, and that will keep me astride this horse no matter what I might ask her to do. There’s another reason for taking a relaxed saddle as well, if you can manage it, apart from the benefit of actually staying on the horse – if you try to sit up for any sort of time your legs will start to hurt more than you can imagine! Save all that standing up in the saddle stuff for the first time we see some fighting.’

  The mare stood quietly, then allowed herself to be encouraged into a sprightly trot around a tight circle before the young centurion swung his leg back over its back and dropped neatly to the ground. Double-Pay Silus nodded his reluctant respect, his mouth twisted into a tight smile.

  ‘Very good, Centurion, it’s nice to see an officer that understands horses. You’ve got a lovely loose seat, and your mount and dismount were as good as any soldier in the Petriana wing could have managed. I’d like to see you handle a spear up there, mind you, but you’ll do for today. Now, let’s have another one of you mules up here and see what you’re made …’

  Marcus’s voice rode over his instructions, harsh enough to raise Decurion Felix’s eyebrow.

  ‘A word, Double-Pay?’

  Silus walked across to where Marcus was waiting for him, a wary look on his face.

  ‘Centurion?’

  ‘Come and look at this.’

  Marcus took his arm and led him around to the horse’s far side, pointing to the shoulder straps there to disguise his true purpose from the watching soldiery.

  ‘These men standing around us, Double-Pay, are Tungrians.’

  The cavalryman frowned, unclear as to this unknown officer’s purpose but unnerved by the harsh tone of his voice.

  ‘Sir?’

  Marcus sighed, shaking his head slightly.

  ‘As I thought. You haven’t got a clue what you’re dealing with. Allow me to educate you. You will remember, if you’ve been with the Petriana for any length of time, the battle of Lost Eagle?’

  He raised an eyebrow, waiting for the other man’s response, which was still bullish, despite a slight uncertainty in his voice, unclear of where this strange and apparently cavalry-trained officer was taking the discussion.

  ‘It would be hard to forget, Centurion. We took hundreds of blue-nose heads that day, once the fuckers broke and ran. It was bloody wonderful …’

  He flinched as Marcus interrupted him again, his eyes wide with barely restrained anger.

  ‘And do you remembe
r, Double-Pay, sitting on your big fat arse and watching some bunch of dozy mules hold off those blue-noses for an hour or so, before they broke and ran, and you big brave horsemen decided to actually take part in the battle?’

  The other man’s face took on a nervous look with the sudden hostility in Marcus’s voice.

  ‘That’s a bit unfair, Centurion, we …’

  ‘Not from where my men were standing!’

  The cavalryman flinched at the anger in Marcus’s voice. Decurion Felix, standing a dozen paces from them, heard his fellow officer’s angry tones and smiled slightly, taking a sudden interest in the hilt of his spatha.

  ‘We fought ten times our strength in barbarians to a standstill that afternoon, while the Petriana sat and did nothing to aid us. The Tungrian soldiers standing around you, Double-Pay, spilled blood and lost friends that afternoon, while you sat and waited for us to send them running for you to chase down. You all rode back from that hunt with heads by the half-dozen, but my men were too tired, too damned numb, to take their swords to the corpses of the men they’d killed. Every one of these men has been blooded, Double-Pay, and stared into the eyes of men that could have been their brothers as they died on our iron. They’ve seen more fighting in the last few months than is good for them, I’d say, or good for anyone else that tries to play the fool with them. If your intention here is to humiliate them because they can’t vault into the saddle like a man that’s been practising the trick for the last year, I’d advise you to consider what a man that’s been humiliated, and who has no concern for the consequences of taking revenge for a slight, might consider doing to you once night has fallen across tonight’s camp.’

  Silus swallowed nervously, without even being aware of it.

  ‘I see your point, Centurion. Perhaps I could …’

  Marcus nodded, his disgust evident in the curl of his lip.

  ‘Yes. Perhaps you could, Double-Pay.’

  He gestured to the waiting infantrymen.

  ‘After you.’

  The cavalryman gave his decurion a swift glance, finding little in Cornelius Felix’s face to encourage him. He coughed, groping for the right reaction, the words spilling out a fraction too quickly for any of the men gathered around him to be fooled.