by Alan Smale
This time, Marcellinus relented. “My apologies, Caesar. I confess I am still extremely weary from the journey. But, with your leave…Caesar, I should like to be discharged from the army of Roma. If you believe that I have played a useful role over the past year and a half, then I am glad of it. If you think I have not, then I will be of no further use to you in any case. By my accounting, and even excluding my years in exile, I have now served in the Roman armed forces for more than twenty-five years. I thus beg you to discharge me and let me retire to Cahokia as a private citizen.”
The Imperator seemed amused. “That would be inconvenient, Gaius Marcellinus, since I have just decided to make your field appointment a permanent one.”
“My appointment, Caesar?”
Hadrianus waved his hand casually as if it were a matter of trivial import. “The Ironclads are short of a Praetor. Luckily, I appear to have a spare one.”
Marcellinus stared at him. “Preposterous.”
The Imperator raised his eyebrows. “And now you go too far in your informality, sir.”
Marcellinus bowed and struggled to recover. “My profound apologies, Caesar. For a deluded moment I had thought your intent was to appoint me as Praetor of the Sixth Ferrata, which would be…” He trailed off.
“I did honor you with a legion once before, Gaius Marcellinus, if you recall. Regretfully, you lost it.”
Marcellinus nodded. “Exactly my point, sir.”
“In your defense, it was not a very good legion.”
Suddenly Marcellinus’s face was hot, and he could not help himself. “With all due respect…you are quite wrong, Caesar. They were fine soldiers and a fine legion. And their loss will be on my head for the rest of my life.”
Hadrianus held his eye and nodded. “Good man.”
“Me?” In Marcellinus’s sudden anger, it took him a few moments to realize the Imperator had yet again been testing him.
“Of course, of course. And so I now offer you the chance to redeem yourself. I offer you permanent command of the Legio VI Ferrata.”
Marcellinus stared. Once again the earth had fallen away from beneath his feet.
“Well, man?”
“Perhaps you are jesting with me?” Marcellinus inquired cautiously. “After all, you must have a dozen competent tribunes you could elevate.”
“Yes, but none are local experts…Are you always this argumentative? Ah, yes, I remember now: constantly.”
“My apologies,” Marcellinus said. “I have perhaps forgotten how to behave in civilized society.”
“Surely, surely.”
The Imperator poured himself more wine and water. He topped up Marcellinus’s beaker and handed it to him.
Marcellinus stared at it. “Let me put that another way. I wonder if you have given sufficient consideration to the other tribunes of the Sixth and how they would feel about being passed over for advancement.”
“Feel?” Hadrianus shook his head dismissively. “None of them have what it takes to lead the Sixth, and if they don’t know that yet, it’s time they learned.”
“Aurelius Dizala has served nobly. By all accounts he made a splendid First Tribune for Calidius Verus.”
“Then he will make you a fine First Tribune, too,” Hadrianus pointed out. “But as it happens it is the recommendation of Aurelius Dizala, in addition to the fine if occasionally grudging words spoken on your behalf by other tribunes and men of the Sixth, that confirms my belief that this is the correct course of action.” The Imperator took a drink of his wine. “And so? Second chances come all too rarely, Gaius Marcellinus. Do you want to command the Sixth or don’t you?”
All of a sudden the world shifted around Marcellinus as it dawned on him that he did want to. Very much indeed. “Holy Jove.”
The thought came as such a shock that he mistrusted it. Pouring his wine into the refuse jug at the rear of the table, he instead filled the beaker with pure, clear water and drank it down slowly. Had he gone mad?
Before he said another word it seemed important to analyze where this sudden desire had its roots. “A moment to ponder your offer, Caesar, if you please?”
“By all means.”
His many failures notwithstanding, Marcellinus had faith in his skills as a leader of men. Again and again he had proved himself a good general and tactician. Despite the dangers and the losses the Sixth had taken, and despite his exhaustion afterward, the river battle at Shappa Ta’atan had invigorated him. It had been his first significant military victory in a decade, and he felt the power of that.
In a way, perhaps an unworthy, perverse way, Marcellinus had missed military command. Ripped out of his former life by a slaughter, perhaps at last he could finally admit that he had missed leading men in battle in a noble cause.
Marcellinus wanted his revenge on the Khan. Not for his invasion of Nova Hesperia, but for his murder of the Romans and the People of the Hand, of Mikasi, Cha’akmogwi, Chochokpi. Even for his enslavement of Pezi, a young man who had finally begun to show promise and whom Marcellinus had vowed would never be enslaved again.
And for that revenge he needed to lead, not just react. Up till now Marcellinus had merely stepped into the breach where necessary. He had taken command of the reserve cavalry at Yupkoyvi, for whatever use that had been, and had next stamped his authority on the river battle at Shappa Ta’atan. But that had all been reactive, contingent on the events happening around him.
Just the night before, Marcellinus had told Sintikala he was weary of war. That was still true. Marcellinus heartily wished war did not have to come. But if it did, he needed to be the man to wage it.
His lovemaking with Sintikala had been one new beginning. Perhaps it was time for another.
“Gaius Marcellinus, have you perhaps fallen asleep on your feet?”
“Truly, I had never thought to be a Praetor again. I wished to give the matter the respect it deserves.”
“Just so,” Hadrianus murmured.
By all the gods, Marcellinus wanted to direct some significant hurt onto the Mongol Khan, Jebei Noyon, Subodei Badahur, and the rest of the Horde. And he wanted to do it with some power and authority. If he had to wage war, he needed to do so as an equal to Sabinus and Agrippa. Marcellinus’s understanding of this land and its people was greater than theirs, and his opinions should count for at least as much.
Winning this war would take the best of both Hesperia and Roma. Too often Marcellinus had seen auxiliaries squandered as spear fodder, sent in first to soften up the enemy at a terrible cost in casualties. That could not be allowed to happen here. And the slaughter they had witnessed at Yupkoyvi could not be allowed to happen in Cahokia, either.
And beyond that?
Even if the joint forces of Roma and the Hesperian League could overcome the immense Mongol threat, then one day there must be a reckoning between Roma and Hesperia if the land was ever to be free. And in that reckoning, the more influence Marcellinus could bring to bear on the situation, the better.
And a Praetor wielded much more influence than a common foot soldier.
Marcellinus had to accept this commission. Offered the white plumed helmet of a Praetor again, he really had no choice but to wear it. Duty called.
Marcellinus realized that Imperator Hadrianus had sat down on his couch to wait patiently. As he might wait for someone whose opinion mattered. That, too, had changed.
As he stared, the Imperator looked up. “And so?”
Marcellinus bowed. “Imperator Hadrianus, having thought it through at…” Perhaps some self-deprecating humor was called for. “At quite considerable length, I would like to accept the command of the Legio VI Ferrata. However, to be easy in my heart about it, I should like to make some requests of you.”
“Aha.” The Imperator grinned. “And so the haggling begins?”
“It’s best we both be clear. We would not want unpleasant surprises later.”
“Well, quite.”
Marcellinus took a deep breath. “I will accept the Praetorshi
p of the Sixth. I will train its cohorts for battle and command them to the best of my abilities in the coming war with the armies of the Mongol Khan.” He began to pace, a restless energy filling his limbs. “Right now, they are broken and disheartened. They have lost their previous Praetor, and some among them may think less than highly of me, so it will require some hard work.”
Hadrianus nodded.
“However, in addition to commanding the Sixth, I would also request to command the Hesperian forces in battle. While the Cahokians will resist the idea of being absorbed into a Roman legion, I should like us to proceed as if the Cahokian fighters are essentially auxiliary cohorts within the Sixth.”
“Doubling the size of your command. A shrewd move, Gaius Marcellinus.”
“More than doubling. At the current time the surviving Sixth numbers some two and a half thousand men; when the centuries that maintain the Oyo garrison rejoin us, perhaps three thousand. I am hoping for a considerably larger number of Hesperians once all the councils are concluded.” He cocked an eye at the Imperator. “Most of whom I brought to the table in the first place, if you’ll recall.”
“Perhaps. Go on.”
“I will accept your commission as Praetor. However, when the war is successfully won and the Mongol Horde sent to burn in Hades, I would request to be discharged from the Roman army here in Nova Hesperia rather than withdrawing to Europa with you and the rest of the legions.”
The Imperator smiled faintly. “You assume our legions will withdraw from Nova Hesperia at the conclusion of this campaign?”
“I certainly assume our treaty with Cahokia will continue while Tahtay and the Great City continue to show good faith. And in fact, I would plan to appoint some of my adjutants from the ranks of our auxiliaries. Throughout my career I have seen the virtue of employing local talent as adjutants and would wish to continue that practice.”
Hadrianus shrugged. “You need not trouble me with such minutiae.”
“Good. Next, there is the issue of the Damnatio Memoriae on myself and the Fighting 33rd. Naturally, it would be untenable for a disgraced general to be given the command of another legion.” Marcellinus stared at his Imperator. “And the 33rd should not have borne the disgrace in the first place. Thus the Damnatio must be lifted, Caesar.”
“Must?” Hadrianus said with evident amusement.
Marcellinus held his gaze. “Must.”
“Then consider it done, Gaius Marcellinus. But in return you must surely recall that elevation back to the Praetorship would require the rededication of your oath of allegiance to your Imperator? A personal oath, to me?”
“Of course. And I will pledge that oath. But prior to that, I have one final matter to bring to your attention.” Marcellinus took a deep breath. “I have a family in Cahokia.”
Hadrianus raised an eyebrow. “Not merely a daughter? A wife and children?”
Wife? “It is a little more tangled than that. But suffice it to say that I have loved ones in the city, and as a man of honor I cannot abandon them when I take up command of the Sixth. Local dalliances and even marriages are hardly unheard of in the Roman army, and so I trust this will not be an issue…but now I see that you know of it already, Caesar.”
Hadrianus was grinning. “Again you underestimate me, Gaius Marcellinus. I have known for some time. And how will Sintikala and Kimimela react to your new responsibilities, do you suppose?”
Any relief Marcellinus might have felt was instantly quenched by his sudden fear. Hadrianus laughed uproariously at his expression. “Come, man, I am the Imperator of Roma. It is my job to know things. Your darlings are wholly unaware that I have known for months of their importance to you. I see no reason why this should need to change.”
Marcellinus did his best to recover. “Hard to predict how they will react. I will do my best to explain it to them.” Immediately he felt he was being patronizing.
“Well, it is hardly in my interests to jeopardize Roma’s rapport with the chief of the Hawk clan. Face the wrath of Sintikala?” Hadrianus shook his head. “Too rich for my blood. But I must say, it is a splendid strategic move on your part.”
Still disconcerted, Marcellinus tried to match his Imperator’s jocularity. “Yes, sir; strategy was always the motive uppermost in my mind.”
“Is there anything else, or have we reached the end of your list of demands?”
“I believe I have finished,” Marcellinus said.
“Very good. Then let us be clear on one final point. Misjudging me can be a fatal mistake, Gaius. Try to never do it again.”
Marcellinus nodded. That was undoubtedly a threat. Yet it was also the first time the Imperator had ever called him familiarly by his praenomen without formally adding his cognomen, as was the custom in patrician society. The combination made for a peculiar mixed message.
“I have never doubted it, Caesar,” he said. “And so I shall do my very best.”
“And so, Gaius, what will be your first orders to your new legion?”
Gratefully, Marcellinus stepped onto safer ground. “We must allow the Sixth to rest from their long journey, but they also need work to do. We broke the Mongol blockade but took substantial losses in doing so, and this shortly after a vicious setback to the legion down in the Mare Solis. At the moment they are reliant on the Third and 27th for accommodations. This must be a further blow to their pride. We must get them back on their feet.
“They must build a fortress of their own. The Cahokians can provide lumber and the other legions can contribute nails and other materials, but the Sixth must build it themselves, with no assistance. It must be situated on the west side of the Mizipi, perhaps south of the fortress of the Third Parthica where the river bends. There are no Cahokian homesteads in that area.
“Logistics aside, I’ll need to stamp quick authority upon them. As you have pointed out, I have already acquired some capital among the tribunes. However, First Centurion Appius Gallus may be a problem if not dealt with promptly. One of my first duties will be to have a stern talk with him. After that, I’ll meet with my centurions.”
Marcellinus pondered. “We must proceed in the correct order. Give me leave to broach this with our allies? In the interests of keeping relations smooth, Tahtay and the elders and clan chiefs must be briefed first; they must not hear about this through rumor and supposition. So I will meet with the Cahokians and then the tribunes. Thirdly, I will meet with Gallus and my centurions. And then, as soon as is feasible, we will commence construction of our new legionary fortress. Ah.” Another thought had struck him. “Sabinus and Agrippa?”
“What of them?”
“Perhaps they should be the first to know. Since…” Although the words were in his mind, he found he could not quite say We will be working together as equals from now on. Given his history with Agrippa, that might prove to be an interesting experience.
“Ah, Gaius, Gaius. They already know, of course.”
“They do?”
“Would I take such a momentous step without consulting my generals? It is the reason you had to wait so long today for an audience.”
“And they agreed?”
“They did. Both of them.”
“That’s astounding,” Marcellinus said, too surprised to be anything other than honest.
“Isn’t it, though? Anyway, the formalities can wait until later. In the meantime…” The Imperator saluted him. “Praetor Gaius Marcellinus of the Legio VI Ferrata: please go about your duties and report back here at dusk to dine with us.”
Marcellinus hesitated. “I thank you for the invitation, but perhaps it might be more appropriate for me to dine with my tribunes on this first evening. I should plunge in. Establish a rapport. Breakfast with you tomorrow instead, perhaps?”
Hadrianus nodded. “By all means, Praetor. By all means.”
Marcellinus came to attention and saluted. “Thank you, Caesar.”
—
“You must be fucking kidding me,” said Aelfric. “Have they
all gone crackers? Have you?”
“Keep your voice down,” Marcellinus said, guiding him toward the Southgate of the fortress of the Third Parthica. “But yes, perhaps they have. And as for me…”
Aelfric was shaking his head. “I thought we were doomed before. Now I know there’s no hope for us against the Khan.”
“I need tribunes,” Marcellinus said bluntly.
“What?”
“The Sixth Ferrata has lost two. I’ll be confirming Manius Ifer as permanent tribune of the Tenth Cohort, but that still leaves the Sixth and Seventh Cohorts swinging in the breeze.”
Aelfric scoffed. “Join your lot? Trade a terrific crew like the Third Parthians for the worst legion on the entire continent? Surely you jest.”
“Oh, they won’t be the worst legion for long.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“You? You get a promotion.”
“Maybe I’m happy where I am.”
“Maybe you are.”
They stepped out of the gate and walked to the bank of the Mizipi. Aelfric was still shaking his head. “The Sixth Ironclads…an honorable name and history and all, but if you’ll permit me to speak freely, I’ve heard some dodgy things about their new commander, and that’s a fact.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
Aelfric considered. “I’ll need back pay for all those years I spent in country.”
“Absolutely not,” Marcellinus said.
“I like having cavalry around me, though, and you don’t have much. I’ve been wondering how I ever allowed myself to go infantry in the first place. All those years doing my own walking when I could’ve gotten an animal to do it for me. And I’ve grown very fond of my horse.”
Marcellinus nodded sagely. “I’m sure you have. You are a Briton, after all.”
“That’s sheep,” Aelfric said. “Horses are different.”
“I’m still negotiating with the other Praetors about cavalry,” Marcellinus admitted. “The Sixth has only a few dozen horsemen of its own. The big alae came across with the Third and 27th. As a start, Sabinus has asked Hadrianus’s permission to assign me the Cohors Equitata IX Thracum Syriaca.”
