The Wolf's gold e-5

by Anthony Riches

  Albinus nodded easily, seating himself behind the desk again and waving to a pair of chairs set out ready for the two men. The slab of wood in front of him was devoid of any clutter, and only two objects marred its otherwise clear surface: an infantry gladius sheathed in a magnificently ornate scabbard and a small silver bell which had been polished to a brilliant shine. Once the tribunes were seated he answered Belletor’s statement, his face wreathed in a beneficent smile.

  ‘Indeed, Tribune, my beneficiarius arrived here two days ago with news of your impending arrival, and a detailed briefing as to the events around the successful defence of Alburnus Major. Well done gentlemen, I’m sure the governor will mention you both favourably in his next despatch to Rome.’

  He paused, looking closely at Belletor to see how the tribune would react.

  ‘Both of us, Legatus? Since I am the commander of the detachment that defended the mine complex I would have expected. .’

  Albinus smiled again, putting up a hand to silence him.

  ‘All in good time, Tribune. I think that our first topic for discussion ought to be this disciplinary matter my clerk tells me you wish to register. I believe it is a matter of concern regarding Rutilius Scaurus’s conduct during your recent encounter with the Sarmatae? That is, I hardly need to point out to you, a serious accusation that might well cast a severe and possibly terminal blight upon a man’s career. Are you sure you wish to persist with this request?’

  Belletor responded stiffly, his suspicion as to where Albinus’s sympathies might lie clearly aroused.

  ‘I feel it my duty to report Rutilius Scaurus’s insubordinate behaviour, Legatus, and to ensure that he receives the appropriate penalty for his wilful ignorance of my orders.’

  Albinus shrugged, holding out a hand.

  ‘I see. In that case perhaps I’d better have a look at that scroll in your hand, which my clerk informs me contains your orders from your legatus in Fortress Bonna. I believe it has direct relevance on the matter of who was granted command of the detachment in question.’

  Belletor handed over the scroll, shooting a triumphant glance at Scaurus.

  ‘As you can see, Legatus, my own commanding officer’s instructions on the matter of my absolute power over the detachment are quite unequivocal.’

  He waited patiently while Albinus digested the contents of the scroll.

  ‘I see. Well this is most edifying, Domitius Belletor. Perhaps more so than you realise.’ He looked up at the tribune with a look that redoubled Belletor’s suspicions that all was not going as he hoped. ‘Tell me, who was it that composed this order?’

  The tribune frowned again, failing to see the point of the question.

  ‘It was Legatus Decula, the commander of the First Minervia at Fortress Bonna, as you can see from the name at the bottom of. .’

  Albinus shook his head with a look of sympathy.

  ‘You miss the point of my enquiry, Tribune.’ He sighed, his voice taking on a tone of weary patience. ‘In every organisation, Domitius Belletor, there is usually a small group of experienced professionals who understand all too well the empire’s requirements of whatever it is that they do, and how these might best be delivered, and who endeavour to ensure that their superiors’ instructions are issued in a manner likely to bring about success. And for better or worse, that’s doubly true in the army. I’ve got one, the man who showed you in here. Yes, he’s only a soldier, but he has fifteen years of experience in the framing and the writing of orders by senior officers. I make sure to ask his opinion as to every administrative matter that crosses my desk, as I did with this order I’m holding, once you’d shown it to him when requesting this interview. It was very clear to him that this order had been written by a fellow professional as an interpretation of the original verbal order given by Legatus Decula at Bonna. Which, of course, the idiot signed without a second thought.’

  He smiled into Belletor’s incensed glare with complete equanimity for a moment, then shook his head in good-natured amusement.

  ‘Tribune, I’ve known Sextus Tullius Decula since the bad old days of the German Wars. He’s quite the most pompous and hidebound man I’ve ever served with, utterly convinced that only men of the senatorial class are capable of leading our legions to victory and at the same time somewhat more lax with the more mundane aspects of his command than might be wise. Doubtless he barked out a diatribe based on his ingrained prejudices, and then left his clerk to convert the sentiment of whatever it was he’d ranted on about into a written order for you to carry away, as your proof of superiority over your colleague here.’

  Belletor shifted in his seat, while Scaurus’s face remained rigidly set, and Albinus looked down at the order again, pointing to the paper in his hand.

  ‘The first part of the order is clear enough, so I will paraphrase. You, Domitius Belletor, are to assume command of the detachment comprised of the units you detailed to me earlier, less the one thousand Sarmatae horsemen you’ve been brave enough to add to your command since then. Further, you are to exercise “absolute decision-making responsibility”, with the right to remove your colleague here from his subordinate command of the Tungrian cohorts should he provide you with adequate reason to do so. That was almost word for word with the legatus’s verbal instruction, I expect?’

  Belletor nodded vigorously, sensing that his argument was easing itself away from the thin ice of the legatus’s relationship with his colleague, and onto the more certain ground of his clearly delegated authority over Scaurus.

  ‘Indeed so. And yet when I attempted to exercise that right to remove Rutilius Scaurus from his command he refused to accept my decision.’

  Albinus nodded.

  ‘On the face of it then, Tribune Scaurus’s refusal to accept your command to relinquish control of his cohorts is a simple question of insubordination?’ Belletor nodded sanguinely. ‘I see. It is, of course, a matter which I am compelled to punish severely. .’ He paused and fixed Belletor with a flat stare. ‘If, that is, I am unable to find any justification for Tribune Scaurus’s actions.’

  The tribune recoiled in his seat as if he’d been stung.

  ‘Justification, Legatus?’

  ‘Justification, Domitius Belletor. By which I mean a good reason for your colleague to have ignored your instruction to relinquish his command.’ Albinus waved the order at Belletor, his smile now notably reduced in its friendliness. ‘And so we turn to the second part of this order, the part I suspect you read rather less well than the section we’ve already discussed, since it was perhaps less worthy of your interest. By which I mean it serves your interests somewhat less well. It is, after all, an afterthought, the usual standard order that headquarters’ clerks tack onto every set of instructions received by every detachment commander, and to which no legatus will ever take exception to since it all makes such good sense from the perspective of covering his backside.’

  He flourished the order theatrically.

  ‘Let’s see what it says, shall we? He read from the scroll. ‘“You are commanded to fulfil the requirements of your orders with regard to the march from Germania Inferior to Dacia, and to conduct any necessary independent field operations with the required combination of necessary aggression whilst also exercising due regard for your command’s preservation.” Oh yes, this was definitely written by a professional administrator, since you are ordered to act both aggressively and in a cautious manner at the same time. The man’s covered every possible angle for his legatus, so that any disaster you might inflict upon your command is clearly your own fault and in no way capable of arriving on his desk. My man does much the same, and indeed I’m sure it’s a long-standing art passed from one clerk to the next.’

  He smiled at Belletor again, but this time the expression was so thin as to be practically non-existent.

  ‘And so we come to the meat of the issue, Tribune Belletor. This last section, which I doubt Legatus Decula gave even so much as a second glance as he scribbled his name
at the bottom of the paper, given he’ll have seen it so many times by now for it to be virtually invisible to him. “Should the requirement become obvious, you are to be replaced by your deputy until such time as you demonstrate your renewed ability to command the detachment in question.” An innocent little clause, isn’t it, and yet I fear it’s going to be the downfall of your argument for Rutilius Scaurus’s dismissal.’

  Belletor’s mouth dropped open in amazement, and when he spoke again his words were an incensed gabble.

  ‘But there was never any need for Scaurus to replace me! I was always in complete control of the detachment, and at no time unfit to command!’ He glared at the legatus with undisguised fury. ‘This is outrageous, Legatus Albinus, I can see what you’re trying to do here and it won’t. .’

  He fell silent as Albinus picked up the silver bell and rang it, the high-pitched note summoning his clerk from the side office where he had clearly been waiting as instructed.

  ‘And that, Tribune, all depends on how we are to interpret fitness to command, doesn’t it? Ah, Julius. If you’d be so kind as to ask Beneficiarius Cattanius to join us? And perhaps you could take some notes for me? You know how the army likes this sort of thing to be properly documented.’

  ‘So what’s going on here, eh? What fuckin’ mischief are you apes up to now? And put those fuckin’ buckets down!’

  Sanga and Scarface snapped to attention and stared fixedly at the fort’s wall while Quintus strode up to them with a furious look on his face, Marcus trailing in his wake with his eyes narrowed at the sight before him. Much to Scarface’s delight the two soldiers had been transferred from Qadir’s century to the Roman’s, along with the remnants of their tent party after the cessation of hostilities with Galatas’s men, replacements for the losses that Marcus’s men had taken at the battle for the Saddle. Shortly thereafter their number had been reinforced by one of the warriors Balodi had offered as part of the agreement, and as the cohort’s officers had expected, the soldiers were finding ways to express their disdain for the hapless conscripts. The young centurion and his chosen man had rounded a corner to find the two veterans in the act of filling four buckets from one of the rainwater troughs that were positioned around the fort’s exterior. Their intended victim, a new soldier who Marcus recalled went by the name of Saratos, was standing stolidly by and watching the buckets being filled with an expression of faint dismay. Looking past him the young centurion spied Morban, having seemingly exercised his usual sixth sense with regard to the impending presence of officers, halfway down the line of tents and walking briskly with his attention ostentatiously elsewhere. Deciding to leave the standard bearer’s comeuppance until later in the day, Marcus stepped up behind his chosen man, pursing his lips as Quintus squared up to the veteran soldiers.

  ‘Think we’re clever, do we boys? Think we can have some fun with the new recruits while my back’s turned, eh? What were we doing then, loading him up with four buckets to see how many times around the camp he could carry them? A big strong lad like him? My money would be on ten, at least. What was your money on, eh lads?’

  Sanga kept his mouth shut and his gaze locked on the fort’s wall, but Scarface lacked his mate’s ability to know when his mouth would be better kept closed.

  ‘You know how it is, Quintus, we was just seeing how tough the barbarian really is. .’

  The chosen man raised a finger to silence him, pointing at the buckets on the ground in front of the two soldiers. Sanga nodded minutely, his face taking on an expression that told Marcus he knew only too well what was coming next. Quintus patted the recruit on his shoulder, pointing in the direction in which Morban had vanished and gently telling him to be on his way, then turned back to the soldiers, his voice rising to parade-ground volume as he put his face less than an inch from Scarface’s.

  ‘He’s not a barbarian, he’s a fuckin’ soldier! He’s in your tent party for a fuckin’ reason, you pricks! You’re supposed to be the responsible men, the lads that can help the new boys to adapt. .’ He shook his head in disgust and moved to face Sanga. ‘If I catch you pair, or anyone else in your fuckin’ century picking on the poor bastard, I’ll have your fuckin’ cocks dangling from my belt. As of now he’s your baby, so you’d better make sure you start looking after him, hadn’t you!’

  The veterans nodded in swift agreement, Scarface shooting a quick glance at his mate that made Sanga shake his head in disgust. Quintus grinned evilly at him, nodding vigorously as his voice returned to a conversational volume.

  ‘Oh yes, I saw that. Your thick-headed mate here thinks you’re going to get away with just getting a bollocking, but you’re far too smart to agree with that, aren’t you?’ Sanga nodded, turning a jaundiced eye on Scarface. ‘So, Soldier Sanga, what punishment would you give the pair of you if you was me, eh? Get it right and I’ll let you off lightly, get it wrong and I’ll double what I have in mind.’

  Sanga looked down at the buckets, then up to see Quintus nodding.

  ‘Good guess. And?’

  Sanga thought furiously.

  ‘Ten times round the camp?’

  ‘Good guess! Get on with it then! If you’re not back here with them fuckin’ buckets still brimming by the time the centurion and I are ready to move on, then you can double the number of times each sentry gets to rip the fuckin’ piss out of you.’

  The veterans took a pair of buckets apiece and hurried off, water slopping over the sides of the containers. Quintus watched them go with a smile.

  ‘I was only going to make them do it five times, but there’s no arguing with keenness.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have had you down as being soft on the new boys, Chosen Man.’

  Quintus looked up at his centurion for a moment before answering, one eyebrow raised.

  ‘Well, sir, just because I’m a little harsh with the men on occasion doesn’t mean I’ve forgot what it feels like to be the new boy myself. I was bullied half to death before I learned that the best answer is to meet fire with fire, and started knocking men over and then kicking them until they stopped trying to get up again. That Sarmatae lad is going to be stood in line with the rest of us soon enough, and if we treat him right he’ll be trying to stick his spear in the enemy and not Scarface’s fuckin’ arse, begging your pardon Centurion.’

  The Roman smiled at him with new admiration.

  ‘I can respect that point of view, Chosen. Shall we continue?’

  Quintus nodded deferentially, then turned to stare at the veterans’ retreating backs.

  ‘Faster you apes! And stop spilling that fuckin’ water!’ He turned back to Marcus. ‘After you, sir. Let’s go and find out which one of the sentries it was that tipped off your pet standard bearer that we was on our way, an’ whoever it was can join those two in their fun and games.’

  ‘It’s not an outcome in which I can take very much pleasure, First Spear.’

  Scaurus regarded Julius levelly over the rim of his cup, sipping at the wine it contained. Julius shook his head in only partly feigned exasperation, tossing back his own cupful and putting it down on the table with a bang.

  ‘You’ll have to forgive me, Tribune, but I’m nothing less than bloody delighted by the whole thing! I’m going to find Cattanius and get him properly pissed as his reward for making sure that his legatus knew exactly how big a fool Belletor made of himself. Between the two of you, you’ve got that prick off our backs and you’re in undisputed command of the cohorts once again. It’s a shame we didn’t keep the Sarmatae horsemen, but that’s a small price to pay.’

  The tribune mused on the meeting’s conclusion for a moment, and Belletor’s incensed behaviour, as it had become clear that Albinus intended siding with his old friend.

  ‘Nothing good will come of this I’m afraid. He’ll be writing a long letter to Rome even as we stand here discussing the matter, telling his father how he’s been robbed of the command he was granted by Legatus Decula only as a result of my political connections with Clodius Al
binus. And don’t forget he can play on his famous victory over the Sarmatae, and how he defeated the bandits in Germania before that. I’ve already told you that my family is still under something of a shadow given our previous history, and then there’s the fact that he’s from a senatorial family while I’m only an equestrian. No, my instincts are telling me that Albinus has perhaps missed his judgement in this matter.’ The tribune shook his head, reaching for the wine flask. ‘Boyhood friend or not, I suspect he would have been wiser to have stuck with the status quo in this case.’

  Julius shrugged, accepting the offer of another cup of wine.

  ‘You did know that the legatus would take your side though, didn’t you?’

  Scaurus nodded his agreement.

  ‘In truth, I did. From the moment that Cattanius mentioned his name I knew that I could do what was needed to defend the mines, because Albinus would ultimately protect me from Belletor’s sense of inadequacy if I stepped too hard on his toes in the process. I just didn’t realise he’d be that harsh with the man. And I don’t expect that Cattanius has made any friends in the matter either.’

  He winced at the memory of the beneficiarius’s unequivocally expressed opinion on the matter of Belletor’s command of the mines’ defence.

  ‘He tried to avoid being too blunt, but once Clodius Albinus ordered him to stop dancing around the issue he was positively scathing about the man. “It was self-evident that the tribune was keener on his bath than on the welfare of his men” was one of the kinder things he said.’

  He took another mouthful of wine, shaking his head as if to dismiss the matter from discussion.

  ‘Anyway, here we are again, masters of our destiny more or less. If we forget for a moment the two legati at whose whim we’ll be dancing over the next few weeks. Yes Tertius? There’s no need to raise your hand with me man, just spit it out like your colleague here does.’