by Griff Hosker
“Damn good men. I shall miss them as Explorates.”
“I think Prefect that many of the things they did as Explorates will have rubbed off. I think they will be better officers because of that. Have you uniforms for them?”
“I think so. We had spares left over from when Marcus’ Horse was operating out of Morbium.”
“ Good. I intend to send for the Decurion and arrange an inspection. Once they are all here and my new decurions have arrived then we shall leave your fortress and build a camp.” He looked knowingly at the prefect. “I daresay that the Quartermaster will be glad that he no longer has the mouths to feed and the hay to find.”
“I think I can safely say that he will buy you drinks the next time you visit.”
“As soon as I have built the new camp I will let you know and you can begin to send my supplies.”
“How long will it take you to train them up?”
“I haven’t got any untrained recruits but I will spread the word around the Dunum. The people there still hold us in high esteem and the land to the south of the Dunum is good horse country. I hope to make up the numbers quickly. It will take us a couple of months to get up to speed but I intend to pick the best forty five men and give them to my three decurions. The sooner we make our presence felt the better.”
The Prefect breathed an audible sigh of relief. “That has taken a load off my mind I can tell you. I was dreading a long training period and no cavalry patrols.”
“I intend to train the turmae and get them on patrol as soon as I can. From what my decurions tell me we have danger heading our way and I fear that Morwenna has been spinning her webs once more. All we need is that sly bitch stirring up the tribes with her enchantments.”
“You knew her I believe?”
“Aye. She suckered us all in, especially Decurion Macro but she will not fool us again. Right sir. With your permission I will use one of your sentries…”
“Go ahead.”
Livius left the office and gestured to the sentry. “Would you be so good as to fetch Decurion Aelius Spartianus to the Prefect’s office?”
“Should I tell him why sir?”
Livius smiled, “No let us not spoil the surprise eh?”
Grinning, the sentry saluted, “No sir!” The Decurion had made himself totally unpopular with the entire garrison and the sentry could not wait until he received his come uppance.
Livius put his helmet on and made sure his armour and sword were correct. From what Cassius had said this was a young arrogant officer and worse still, a bully. Livius would need to use all his skills with this one. The memory of his brother helped him. He had been mercilessly bullied by his sibling for years but when he had defeated him, not once but twice it gave Livius the confidence to face all bullies knowing that he could defeat them.
The sentry returned, a huge grin on his face, “He’s coming sir but he is not a happy bunny!” He leaned conspiratorially into Livius. “He thinks it is the Prefect and started mouthing off about jumped up fat little twats ordering him around!”
“Thank you….?”
“Gratius Galba sir.”
“Thank you Gratius I will not forget you.”
Livius leaned back into the shadow of the roof and watched as Aelius Spartianus stormed over. He was a small dark haired man with a full beard and moustache although the thinness suggested he had only grown it recently, probably to make himself look older. He was not a tall man and he was not muscled and it was no surprise that Cassius had bested him so easily. He had made the mistake of not coming in full uniform and he had neither helmet nor vine staff. His uniform looked as though he had slept in it. Marcus, Gaius and Julius had always impressed on the young decurions that you made sure you wore your best when meeting a senior officer but, of course, Spartianus only thought he was meeting the ‘fat twat’ and not his superior.
When he mounted the steps the sentry held his spear across the door. “Damn it! He sent for me! Am I to wait outside like a naughty boy? I am the Decurion Princeps of the Second wing of Pannonians and I will not be kept waiting by a has-been.” He had shouted loudly to make sure that the Prefect would hear him and he lounged against the doorway an arrogant grin on his face.
Livius timed his entrance to perfection. He stepped out and, as luck would have it, the sun came out and glistened on his burnished cuirass. The effect was as though he had appeared in a magician’s puff of smoke. “The Prefect did not send for you sonny. I did and I am the Decurion Princeps of the First Sallustian ala of Pannonians.”
To do him justice Spartianus tried to bluster for a moment or two. “Well who are you and I have never heard of the Sallustian ala.”
“Well that is because until yesterday it was the Second wing of Pannonians but the Emperor Hadrian has decided to give it to me and rename it after my uncle, in his honour.”
It was as though someone had punched him in the solar plexus. “Emperor Hadrian but, I thought that Emperor Trajan still…”
“Which should tell you decurion,” Livius emphasised the last word, “that I know considerably more than you. Now close your mouth before a horse falls in it and then get your men on parade with full equipment and this time make sure you are properly dressed. Tell them we are leaving Eboracum to go to our new quarters.”
Scipius Porcius had left his office to observe the end game of this encounter. Aelius glared at him, then the sentry and began to move off. “How about a salute Decurion or will I have to show you how it is done?” The salute was ragged and the enmity glared out from his angry eyes.
The sentry murmured, to no one in particular, “Definitely not a happy bunny.”
The ala arrived a little less promptly than Livius would have expected. It did not worry him as he had plenty of time. He intended to leave Eboracum mid afternoon and make the la build a camp as dusk was descending. He had chosen his site already in his mind but he would keep that privileged piece of information to himself. He allowed them to shuffle into vague lines and then stepped down from the steps of the Principia. The sentries were all eagerly anticipating the impact that Livius would have. Most of the Batavians in the fort knew him formerly the time he had been a Decurion in the auxiliary and latterly as an Explorate. Everyone looked up to him and admired him for what he had done. The Pannonians knew nothing about their new commander. He walked down the lines examining each horse and each trooper. Spartianus sat in front of them, feeling proud of himself. He knew that they were a smart ala.
“I am Decurion Princeps Livius Lucullus Sallustius and I am your new Decurion Princeps. We do not, as yet, have a Prefect. The numbers do not merit one but we will and when we do I hope that we do not embarrass me as you must be embarrassing your decurion. I served with Marcus’ Horse.” He let the words sink in. “That is right. The finest ala which ever served in the Roman Army.” He glared at them, daring any to gainsay him. “The only thing you have in common is that you are Pannonians and there the resemblance ends.” He stared at Spartianus. “Yesterday some of you went into the vicus and tried to pick a fight.” He shrugged. “It happens but unfortunately for you, your men lost. You are now a new ala. You are the First Sallustian Wing of Pannonians.” He noticed that they looked at each other in surprise, obviously Spartianus had not told them.” The New Emperor of Rome Hadrian has granted my family that honour for the service we have done.” The bemused looks told Livius that the ala were less confident in the veracity of their former decurion. “We will be in the field for the foreseeable future. We will have to patrol the whole of Northern Britannia because I can tell you all the trouble is coming and the only thing in its way will be us so prepare yourself to be between a rock and hard place.”
Livius had caught out of the corner of his eye his three decurions and Macro arriving. He had given them enough time to get their new uniforms and don them. He only hoped that Marcus had reached Cato and had a horse for him or the whole show would appear pathetic. “We will be recruiting but until that time you will have t
o perform as one ala.”
Spartianus could not restrain himself. “How can we do that with only two officers?”
“How can we do that with only two officers sir?”
“Sorry sir.”
“Well I have not been idle and I have three decurions who served with Marcus Horse, let me introduce Decurion Cassius Nautius. Decurion Metellus Scribonious and Decurion Rufius Lividius and finally weapons trainer, Decius Macro Culleo son of the great Macro, the greatest warrior in any ala in the Roman Empire.”
The silence was resounding. Everyone had heard of Macro and to see his son standing alongside the other heroes of Marcus’ Horse was intimidating beyond belief. Spartianus slumped in his saddle. He had hoped to foist his own cronies upon the new commander and drive him from his command. The four men who had bested him yesterday stood before him and glared pointedly at the decurion. Livius allowed the silence to hang, like a sword of Damocles above the ala. When he broke the silence he was pleased that some of the men actually jumped. “I now have four decurion and there are two hundred and fifty of us. Each turma will be fifty in number until I have seen who amongst you are worthy of promotion. You have enjoyed a pleasant time in Eboracum. That pleasant time has ended.” He heard the clatter of hooves as Marcus rode in with a string of five of the finest horses ever seen. Livius resisted the temptation to look around and continued. “We are now leaving Eboracum. Whatever you have forgotten stays here. This is the day when the First Sallustian makes its reputation. You will not let me down!”
The last word was roared out as Marcus rode in front of Livius with the most magnificent black stallion anyone had ever seen. Livius mounted as though he had ridden the horse forever. He murmured under his breath to Marcus, “What is name?”
“Thunder.”
“Thank you and well done Marcus, he is magnificent!” He turned to his ala and unsheathed his sword. “Today is the first chapter in the book which is the annals of the First Sallustian Wing of Pannonians.”
The men had been caught up in the rhetoric and, apart from Spartianus and his cronies roared out an answer. Livius turned to Marcus and winked, “So far , so good!”
Chapter 8
By the time Livius finally rested the ala, all the men apart from the Explorates, were exhausted. They had ridden fifty miles and were some thirty miles north east of Cataractonium in the lee of the hills which rolled away to the sea. Livius himself was feeling the effects of trying to control a fierce horse and ride such a long way. He suddenly remembered that it was over three years since he had ridden such a tiring distance. He was pleased that the men and Spartianus looked even worse. His five companions looked as fresh as daisies.
Spartianus rode next to him. “Where is the fort?”
Livius looked at him as though he had asked where the Tiber was. “Fort?”
“Where we will be sleeping tonight.”
“Tonight, Decurion Spartianus, we will be building our own camp and tomorrow it will become a fort.”
The look on Spartianus’ face was priceless. He had never had to build a camp. In Batavia they had operated out of existing forts as they had at Eboracum. Marcus’ Horse had been used to building a camp each night as they had advanced north with Agricola. Livius could not help giving a knowing nod and then murmuring. “Welcome to the future Decurion! And get used to it. For now you will earn your pay.”
The site which Livius had chosen was a good one. He had first seen it when he was a young decurion leading his men after Caledonii raiders; it had stayed in his memory. There was a small knoll with natural banks leading down to a stream. The vale leading to Morbium stretched away west and behind them were the steep hills leading to the sea. The men had obviously never erected a camp before and he smiled as his three Decurions chivvied and chased their men. Marcus and Macro were able to help the troopers and soon became firm favourites of every trooper they encountered because of their good humour, hard work and knowledge. They disappeared as the troopers began to erect their tents. Livius gestured to his three trusted confederates.
“Well?”
“There are some keen lads who have potential but it is obvious that they have not been led. They have been bullied. They wouldn’t know how to wipe their arse if someone didn’t tell them.”
“Eloquently put Cassius.”
“Speak as I find sir.”
“Any officer material?”
Metellus nodded, “A couple sir. The thing is Spartianus has got his cronies ruling the roost. The men are scared shitless of them.”
Livius nodded, it matched his assessment. “Tomorrow we rearrange the turmae. Put his cronies in your turmae and mine. Let’s isolate the bastard.”
They watched as the last tent was erected and the men fell into heaps around them. “Look at that sir, no horse lines and no kitchens.”
“I know Cassius. You go and organise the horse lines. Metellus organise the kitchens and Rufius pick out ten men and take a patrol around the area. Send Spartianus to me.” Livius almost heard the collective groan as exhausted men were dragged to their feet.
A murderous Spartianus approached. “You sent for me sir.” He almost spat out the ‘sir’.
“Are you pleased with the ala?”
“The lads have never done this before.”
“What they have never had to march fifty miles and build a camp? Then I am afraid your officers, may the Allfather protect them, did you no favours. This is how the Roman Army survives, why it has been so successful over so many years. They march, build a camp and then fight. If we had to fight right now I wouldn’t give you two denarii for our chances. We will be here for a short time but get used to this Decurion, this is the future.”
He called Metellus over. “Make sure you have three fire pits going.”
Metellus looked dubiously at the dusk which was making it hard to see a hand before a face. “Are you sure Macro and Marcus will deliver? It is getting dark very quickly.”
“Do you trust Macro and Marcus?”
“With my life!”
“Then trust them to get supper,” he leaned over conspiratorially, “even a couple of conies would seem like a feast.” Metellus nodded, a grin spreading across his face. How could he have doubted the young lads?
By the time all the tasks were finished the men were lurching like drunkards. The looked accusingly at the two fire pits blazing merrily away; hatred in their hearts for this martinet who had disturbed their tranquil lives living in the relative luxury of a garrison town with ale houses a stone’s throw away. He strode into the light of the fires. “Well done men. Tomorrow we begin out training. Some of you will be building a gyrus, some will be making the walls of our fort higher and the better warriors amongst you will be bringing the first of our mounts.”
Someone, Livius thought one of Spartianus’ cronies yelled out, “We’re fucking starving!”
Cassius made to go and find the voice but Livius restrained him. “You have rations do you not? Then eat porridge and dried meat.”
There was a sudden murmuring which began to grow. The three decurion’s hands went to their swords but Livius said quietly, “Faith boys, faith.” Suddenly every trooper turned as they heard the galloping of horses. “You see what happens when you are slipshod and do not set guards?”
It was a relief to all two hundred and fifty terrified faces when the grinning pair of Marcus and Macro rode in and threw down two buck deer and four rabbits.”Luckily gentlemen, you have two of the finest hunters in Britannia in the ala. Now do we have a cook?” There was a silence. “I am sorry I expressed myself badly, do we have someone who can cook and would like to be cook?”
Livius peered around and saw a hand appear from the exhausted mass of troopers. A man stepped forward. Livius looked quizzically at him. “Septimus Porcus sir.” The man was squat and as round as he was tall.
“Can you cook?”
“A little bit.”
A voice from the back shouted, “He is fucking great sir he makes the
shit they serve as rations actually edible!”
“High praise indeed. Well Septimus tonight is your chance. Pick four men to help you skin and prepare the animals.”
Marcus spoke up. “Found some bilberries sir, not as good as juniper but they might help.”
“Any use Cook?”
Septimus grinned, “Oh yes sir and I saw some wild garlic a ways back can I send a couple of lads for it?”
“You are the cook. “He went to his saddle and returned with a flask and a lemon. “You can use these too. The lemon is from Rome as is the olive oil. Use them well Cook and tomorrow you may be a sergeant.”
Septimus roared, “Yes sir!” and Livius knew he had converted at least five of his troopers.
Aelius Spartianus deigned to share the Decurion’s tent with his three new brother officers. Instead he joined the small cabal of followers. There were seven of them and they had all attached themselves to the young officer early on in their military career. They were the bullies who forced any dissenting voice in the ala to be silent. They were the ones who chose the easy duties and they were the ones who took money from the men to avoid beatings. Each one of them hoped for advancement both professionally and financially and, indeed, had already shared in the profits from the money Spartianus had obtained through his various frauds. They spoke quietly in the tent. The Fist was a de facto second in command for Aelius. He had his nickname because of the enormous hams at the end of each arm. A powerful thug of a man he had once almost beaten a recruit to death had he not been stopped by the old Decurion Princeps. His punishment had been a flogging which had proved unfortunate for the Decurion Princeps who had suffered a Roman Javelin to the back in the next frenetic skirmish. The Fist had spoken with many of the other troopers whilst they were working. “I don’t think we will be getting as much cooperation from the boys now. They aren’t exactly queuing up to make trouble for us but they think the new leader and the decurions will make their life a little easier.”