Athene's Prophecy (Gaius Claudius Scaevola Trilogy)

by Ian Miller

  "Now, you sorry lot," he continued, as a couple of recruits struggled to their feet, "there's a contest coming, and since I'm betting on you lot, you'd better win. And you start by cooperating, acting like a team. There were two of you that offered some resistance, but where were they? Down the end of the line where it didn't matter. Get your strongest men into play in the centre of the line, and help each other. Let's see what happens in a week."

  A week later, there was an improvement. The veterans eventually won, mainly by peeling back the left of the line, but as the exercises progressed it took an increasing amount of time.

  "Now," Gaius offered, after yet another time when the recruits were pushed into their trench, "I don't want to hear blame. The men at the left end folded, eventually, but they're the lightest you have. The veterans started to concentrate there, and eventually they got through. The question is, what were the rest of you doing? I'll tell you what. You were holding, so you relaxed a bit. I don't want to see any of that. If you're holding while the enemy is pushing somewhere else, that's the time for you to push that much harder. If the enemy thinks he's making progress elsewhere, he usually doesn't like to look around and see the centre, say, folding. You think you've done your bit, then you're wrong. You've done your bit when your century grinds the opposition into the dirt, and not a second earlier. For the next exercise, I'll give you a couple of experienced Optios to get you more organized."

  For the next exercise Gaius slightly increased the number of veterans, and eventually they won again. But it was becoming harder, and Gaius was pleased to see that the recruits seemed determined to win. Eventually he decided enough was enough, and he returned to the original number of veterans. After something of a struggle, the veteran's right folded when one man slipped, and they were peeled back, to great cheering.

  "A little better," Gaius said gruffly. "There's beer, wine and meat just for you and the veterans down to the left of the Mess. It's on me, and if anyone else tries to take it, you have my permission to take them away and throw them in the river."

  Thus the recruits were rewarded, and anyone who tried to take that reward had to face some of the hardest veterans in the legion. The veterans got free drink, thanks to these recruits, and the recruits suddenly found they had unexpected drinking companions. The recruits were well on the way to being accepted.

  * * *

  Improving relations with Vibius seemed easier said than done. Gaius invited his Legate, the Tribunes and some other civilians of standing to an evening social get-together, where he introduced the guests to beer made by the Egyptian recipe.

  The evening got off to a bad start with the Legate deciding the beer was far too weak, so he began drinking large volumes. Shortly later, he was seen head down, over a ditch, vomiting. After that, he was not seen again. The rich merchants, fortunately, did not see this episode, and were reasonably impressed with the drink, and many could see a number of sales prospects, but Vibius decided that Gaius was being cheap and did not wish to spend on wine for mere equestrians.

  Then Gaius was approached by some merchants; they wished to buy the recipe. No need, Gaius offered, as long as they purchased some ingredients from his family interests, and they kept records and paid him a quadrans for every two denarii of sales. The merchants thought about this last point, then they agreed quickly.

  "Keep good records," Gaius grinned at them. He knew fine well they had no intention of so doing. "If you don't, I'll let Little Boots know you're cheating him of his tax revenues."

  The merchants stared at him, and suddenly realized who had the power in this deal. The man with a legion behind him.

  "The other way of looking at it," Gaius continued, "is that I know Little Boots'll be only too pleased to see that good tax-payers have their activities protected."

  This had a good effect. It could never hurt to have a man with a legion on their side.

  "That wretched Claudius!" Vibius muttered to anyone who would listen. "He's just using the legion for his own ends!"

  This, however, was not a particularly telling comment. The general reaction was, so what? Julius Caesar had even conquered Gaul for no better reason than to get enough loot to fulfil his own political ambition. The real question was, when pushed, would this new Tribune be of any use in the field.

  * * *

  The contest was simple. Recruits had to dig their trench to the full depth and build their ramparts, and when this was done to the satisfaction of a neutral Centurion they would take shield and practice sword and defend their rampart. The ramparts were six paces apart, with the trenches behind, and when the first troops were lined up the centurion would count to one hundred. If the opposition were not ready at that point, the recruits could advance and take what advantage they could. The objective was to throw the opponents back into their trench. If a recruit fell to the ground, or received a good sword thrust to the body, he was required to take no further part in the contest.

  Many of the legionnaires elected to watch, and there were many early groans as cohorts were eliminated. Then the recruits from the first took part in their first contest. They eliminated their opposition easily: the opposition were still completing their trench and the first recruits ambled up and shovelled the dirt in faster than the others could get it out, effectively 'burying' their opponents. The recruits from the third also had an easy win, and it soon became clear that Vibius had made a big effort not to lose.

  The final, when it arose, was a little one-sided. Although the first cohort was twice as big, it had only half the recruits that the third had, and there was a greater disadvantage in as much as the recruits to the third were mainly of farming stock, and were naturally stronger. When the recruits from the first lined up, they charged the third, but flung themselves at the third's left flank. They made an initial impact, but the recruits from the third slid around the rear of their own men to support them, and eventually by attrition they had to prevail. The problem for the recruits from the first was that as some took the "fatal" sword thrust, their numbers fell, and even if they took equal number of their opponents, the odds rapidly became worse.

  At the finish, Gaius congratulated Vibius, and handed Vibius the trophy, which was a cask of wine for the winning recruits. At first Vibius was reluctant to accept, on the grounds that the victory was hollow because his men outnumbered the first.

  "Not at all," Gaius shrugged. "Everyone knew the rules, and your recruits had really trained well. They deserve it, although of course if they feel that way, they could always invite the losers to help drink it."

  Vibius accepted that suggestion, and also accepted Gaius' invitation to a dinner. This time, Gaius thought, he should put Timothy's gastronomic abilities to better use.

  Chapter 30

  "A copy of orders from Governor Vitellius, sir."

  Gaius looked at the Centurion, and took the note. "That's odd," he muttered. "These should have come through the Legatus."

  "That's where the Governor sent them first," the Centurion nodded, then he stared at Gaius. He paused and seemed to take a view. "The Governor wishes to know why you haven't set out already, before the trail gets too cold."

  "This's the first I've seen of these orders," Gaius protested.

  "I think the Governor realizes that sir," the Centurion, offered. He was obviously unsure of what to say next and was uncomfortable in having to face this Tribune.

  "Inform the Governor that I have only received these orders as of now," Gaius said, more firmly, "and further, inform the Governor that the first cohort and some cavalry will set out as soon as supplies are secured. That should take about three hours."

  "Yes, sir," the Centurion nodded, then seemed to come to a decision as he added, "I think the Governor knows why you haven't received these orders."

  "I think you do too," Gaius grinned at the Centurion.

  "I think I do too," the Centurion nodded, then saluted, and left.

  The three hours were frantic, but Gaius was determined to get st
arted. His Centurions accepted the problem, and, strangely, so did the men. There was, after all, the prospect of action, and additionally, they had a Tribune who wished to get started, and a Tribune who had begun to earn some respect. Such a Tribune had to be supported. So it was within the three hours that the sounds could be heard of the first cohort marching from the legion's camp. Each of the Centurions ordered a battery of horn signals, none of which had any meaning except to wake up the Legatus and hopefully add to his headache.

  The problem was at first glance straightforward. Three hundred raiders had sacked a village, somewhere in the zone between Parthian and Roman control. This village had previously been supportive of Rome, and unless something was done, Rome's reputation would suffer. The trouble was, the village was three to four days march to the northeast, and by the time they got there, the raiders would have left long before.

  The march was through more or less unrelenting desert, brownish dust, brownish rocks, and little in the way of vegetation, except for the isolated spot where water could be found, either in rock cisterns or underground and drawn from wells. In these places, green flourished, and villages built of the desert stone stood in an uncompromising fashion. The cohort marched through these, drawing only additional water. As each camp was struck on each morning, Gaius' mood became less jubilant. Yes, he was leading an expedition, but it was increasingly looking as if the best that could happen was that it would be fruitless. Not only would the raiders have left, but they would probably be in Parthia, where he could not follow. His report would look silly.

  As he led the cohort into the village, he received sullen stares. The villagers had already rounded up those animals that had survived and had restored some sort of order to their lives and now they were both angry and fearful; the raiders had gone long ago, but they could return. If this was the Roman response, they were effectively defenceless. These Romans would take what little food was left, march around, then return to barracks.

  Gaius duly took details, and then took the village elders to one side and got them to describe the local geography. He smiled wryly as he noted that either his map was grossly wrong, or they were lying. It did not take much imagination to guess which. It was then that he remembered the first military problem Timothy had given him. He probed deeper, and made sure he was aware of every source of drinkable water. He then assured the locals that apart from refilling with water, the cohort would not require any food or supplies, although the horses would require more forage. He would pay for that now.

  The situation was not promising. There were few clues as to where the raiders might have gone, or, for that matter, where they might have come from. Still, he had clear orders. Even though the prospect of catching the raiders was remote, he was ordered to at least give the impression that he had tried. It had to be clear that the raiders had fled from the might of Rome. It had to be clear that Rome had not merely turned up, took some details, shrugged, and gone home.

  He ordered the cohort to march east, further into the desert. He refused his Centurions' wishes to split up, and search in several directions; the raiders would have long made their escape, and the last thing he needed was a century to get lost in the desert.

  Vague clues of the raider's camp sites were found, but the trail seemed distinctly cold, until one evening, a camp site was found that had been used more than once, and the last time had been very recent. Where to next? To the northwest was a small oasis, while to the northeast there was the road through the hills that was the obvious route back to Parthia. Apart from that, there were some of what seemed like dried riverbeds, some rounded barren hills, and flat desert. According to the villagers there was virtually nothing at the oasis, and it was not even on his map, so the following morning the cohort marched towards the pass.

  They had marched for three hours and the cohort was about to enter a small gully when a scout reported. "We've found the raiders, sir, and there's a camp of about three hundred men near the mouth of the pass."

  "A camp?" Gaius asked dubiously. "There? That doesn't sound right. Are you sure?"

  "Oh, it's there," the man said, "and it's obvious. We're expected to see it."

  "So, what else's there?" Gaius mused, more to himself than to the scout.

  "Another five thousand," the scout replied. "That's rough, of course, but I counted them last night by the fires."

  "And they're in the pass, waiting to ambush us?" Gaius asked.

  "No sir. If you climb this little hill and look over to the east, you'll see about half of them have headed south."

  "Hmmm," Gaius mused. "Then they're either going back to raid the village we just left, or they're trying to encircle us."

  "They're mainly infantry, sir. They're trying to encircle us."

  "Infantry?" Gaius asked in shock. "You mean they're soldiers?"

  "Yes sir."

  Gaius looked at the scout, then mused, "If there's that many of them, I suppose they would be, wouldn't they." The scout stood there, unsure of what to do, then Gaius asked, "Are there any horsemen at this camp?"

  "No horses sir. The camp is supposed to look an easy target."

  "I see. Then describe what you know about the land ahead."

  "You come out of this gully, march about an hour ahead and there's another, which would take a man about half an hour to get through, then after that it's flat land towards the pass. Good cavalry land, and no possibility of a surprise attack."

  "Thank you," Gaius said. "I want you to go ahead, and when you get to the second gully, find a route which will keep us under cover for as long as possible towards the oasis to the north-west."

  "Yes, sir."

  The situation seemed reasonably clear. Three hundred men attack a village, a cohort pursues, finds the three hundred who then flee into the pass, the cohort marches towards the pass then pursues the raiders into the pass, whereupon five thousand soldiers close from the rear. The cohort would be driven through the pass into land the Parthians claimed, then the Romans would be killed on Parthian land, an invasion of land denied to Rome by treaty. Either that, or the cohort would be killed and somewhere else would be sacked. Possibly Palmyra! If another few cohorts came out and were destroyed, a legion would have been picked off in parts. For some reason, at least some Parthians wished to resume war, and this was a fair way to start one.

  His options were to advance or retreat, but if he chose the latter, the Parthian cavalry and light infantry would always catch him. There was no real escape, and he appeared to be outnumbered approximately five to one. He was certain the Parthians would pursue him as there was no point in having five thousand soldiers marching around in the Roman desert doing nothing. Therefore what he had to do was to select the best place to fight.

  He could march towards the camp, and if possible defeat the three hundred or so before help could arrive. However, they would see him coming, then they would retreat into the pass, where he could either follow or not follow. Once in the pass, if he caught the raiders he could despatch them, then climb the hills to gain the advantage of height. The problem with that plan was that if the enemy did not pursue, he would be stuck in this pass, without water or supply, and able to be attacked by additional forces from Parthia.

  The next not very attractive option was to take advantage of the enemy's decision to split his forces and to set off after the infantry, to fight a bit under three to one against in open terrain at the most inconvenient spot, for the choice of spot lay with the opposition.

  The alternative was to defend at the oasis. He would look silly if the enemy did not attack, but no worse than if he marched all around the desert and the Parthians declined combat. And if he did march across the desert and was surrounded by a force almost five times as large at an indefensible spot, they would all be killed. Of course he had the best soldiers in the world, and Alexander would have ignored the odds and set off and destroyed the opposition. The trouble was, he was not Alexander. The words of the old General came back to him: fight your ba
ttles, not someone else's. He would defend at the oasis.

  He rode to the front of the cohort and gave his orders to the Chief Centurion. Gaius noted that the idea of marching away from the raiders was viewed with only moderate enthusiasm. That, he would have to live with. Gaius then waited as the remaining soldiers marched past, and issued similar orders to each Centurion.

  * * *

  As the cohort marched across the plain between gullies, Gaius tried to give the impression that he was in control. He rode, head up, appearing as unconcerned as he could. Ignoring the heat and flies was his first problem. It was hot, it was dusty, but he had to look as if he was in control. Inwardly he was anything but unconcerned. This would be his first battle and if he lost, it would be his last, because he would be dead. On the other hand, if the enemy ignored him his report would be seen to read, 'He came, he saw, he fled.' That was hardly the way to commence a military career.

  Yes, he had a good plan. At least he thought he did. The question was, did he have enough operational knowledge to pull it off? Would his first move work? How much did the enemy know? Did they realize that not all his cavalry would be accounted for? Worse, would they accidentally blunder into the small detachment left behind in the first gully?

  He had to pull himself together! The small force left behind had eyes and could make their escape. Then he remembered Libo's advice. He might doubt, but he must not show it. The men would know he was young and this was his first battle, but at least they had to believe he thought he knew what he was doing. Accordingly, he rode unconcernedly along the line of troops. As he looked out to the northeast, there was no sign of the enemy. Good! The harder they were to see, the harder it would be for them to see him, and the less sure they would be of what was to happen. Every half-hour was so valuable.