“It will soon heat up Quintus,” Decimus said, “in no time at all you’ll be jumping into streams with naked local women, who will help warm your blood. Now stop your whining.”
Quintus shivered at the prospect of cold water and threw aside his course blanket, kneeling he began to roll it up ready to move but it didn’t stop him from complaining.
“Water, streams, you have to be pulling my incredibly long foreskin my friend. If I jumped into a stream right now I’d die and you would be responsible, miserable bloody place. I can’t wait to see the locals actually I bet they’re covered in natural fur to keep warm, it’s bound to be growing out of their skin.”
Quintus’ ranting at least cheered the others up as they packed away their gear and stowed it on the horses and in no time at all they were ready to move off, breakfast would have to wait, a fact that gave Quintus more to moan about. They would move from their resting place before eating, putting a few miles between them and the overnight camp. Varro informed them that he wanted to scout the area where they had seen the fires the night before. Once that was done they would split up with Quintus and his men to returning the column. The rest of the Second Augusta was probably already preparing to move but would be having a hearty breakfast before breaking camp. They made sure there was no evidence of last night’s fire and gave their mounts a little food, they could go without breakfast but their means of transportation could not. Already the mist was beginning to clear as Varro slowly led the way down off the high ground. Once more they began to see that small wooded areas littered the land, with a large covering of forest to the right, the sea and rolling coastline to their left.
“We’ll make for that cluster of trees over there.” Varro said pointing, “Quintus take you’re men and follow the line of the sea, we’ll take the northern route and move along the tree line of the forest. If you make any enemy contact or suddenly come across any hairy arse Britons your unsure of and you find yourself outnumbered, you are to withdraw to here, where we’ll meet you and the same applies for us. We don’t know how these people will react, so be safe. Remember we’re here to watch, observe and report back, not to get involved in a fight.”
Quintus acknowledged the order and indicated for his men to follow his lead. Gone was the moaning man, returned was the professional soldier. Slowly they turned their horses to follow his lead and began to descend the hillock.
“Optio,” Varro said to Veranius, “Lets see who’s out there shall we?”
He began to move further down the hill, their party some yards behind the first, at the base of the mound, he turned left and Quintus and his men went right. The sun was slowly beginning to warm them now and Varro felt a little better than he had when he had woken just before first light. It was always an unusual feeling being so far forward, without the comfortable feeling of the quick response and safety of the rest of the legion nearby.
Initially Varro had found it hard to adapt to the duties of the unit, never quite knowing who or what lay ahead or behind. He had spent many a restless night often preferring to volunteer for guard duty rather than sleeping or trying to sleep before he got use to it. In time, he had been promoted to Optio and now he commanded his own unit and while he slept soundly, others volunteered to stay awake on guard.
He had come to realise that whatever was written in the stars or was bound to be in his destiny he couldn’t change it. It was futile to fret and worry over what he could not affect or ultimately change, so he would continue to use his skill and initiative and hopefully stay alive being careful to avoid overwhelming odds. If it was his time to leave this life then that was how it was meant to be.
He was more than aware of the responsibility regarding his men and their lives, he would be loyal to the death with them and he expected the same in return, nothing more nothing less. Politics and scheming by high ranking officers was all too apparent in the army and he wouldn’t abide it with his soldiers, if an individual had something to say he would listen and respect their opinions and views. It didn’t of course mean he would take any notice of it however and the men respected that. He wouldn’t stand for any political wrangling or men prepared to step on others to advance their own careers.
They had once had a Senators son in their ranks whose ambition was clearly more dangerous than the enemy, because of his eagerness to please the Legate and the legions tribunes. His father had insisted he join the ranks of the army as a legionary and not a thin stripe tribune, as punishment for his arrogance and bad nature. Varro had made sure he was removed from the unit within a week after he tried to volunteer them for a mission that could have killed them all, they never saw him again. He didn’t always act on his men’s advice or words but he did listen, he always listened. He knew he wasn’t infallible and had more respect for his fellow soldiers than other officers or men wearing Senatorial robes. If they had something of value to say and it was better than his initial course of action, he was humble enough to change his mind. Too many in the army were ignorant and arrogant as they tried to advance themselves and he had seen them all too often pay the price for that with their lives. He lived for the day not some future that may never come.
The sun was now visible and the mist had all but evaporated except for a few clumps here and there. As he led his men out towards the line of trees that marked the edge of the forest, he scanned ahead expecting to see horses and men emerge quicker than they could react and pin them down, it wasn’t long before his suspicions were confirmed. Somewhere in the distance, the corner of his eye caught movement to the right. He saw fleeting movement, slight and slow but movement nevertheless. At a distance of about five hundred yards he saw a human figure move back into the cover of the thick trees. As soon as his eyes were on him or her, they’d vanished but not before Varro saw the spear that they carried, confirming it was a person.
Outwardly he gave no indication that he had seen the man or woman but he adjusted the path of Staro slightly away from the trees and to at least two range lengths of a spears throw from the cover of them. He moved his right hand to his back and held it at the base of his spine clenching his fist, Veranius saw it and without a word, all the men were aware of the danger somewhere ahead on the right.
“How far? Veranius asked quietly.
“About five hundred paces, a lone man I think armed with a javelin, all I saw was a figure but he’s carrying a spear for certain and as soon as I saw him he slid back into the trees.” He looked to the right where an entire army could be hidden and they wouldn’t know it. Quintus was out of sight now, having gone around the other side of the hill where they had spent the night. It would be sometime before they met up at the trees Varro had indicated was to be their rendezvous point.
“Well we are here to see what’s here, I suppose.” He turned in his saddle smiling at Veranius who had a look of mild unease etched over his face as he then checked the location of his pilums.
“Come on lets flush out this fowl.” Varro said as he gently nudged Staro with his heels and the horse moved forward slowly into a canter, ears sharp and straight as if sensing something wasn’t quite right, his head nodding up and down. When they were level with the point where the man had vanished, Varro brought them to a halt, to anyone watching they made it look as if they had just stopped and were getting off their horses for a stretch but inside their senses were straining.
“Marcus,” Varro said, as the soldier came forward, “you’re our fastest runner aren’t you?” He smiled knowing that Marcus would react as expected.
“Yes sir, no-one has beaten me in the legion yet,” he beamed proudly. Marcus was one of the most competitive men Varro had ever known. It didn’t matter if he was growing seeds or looking after the legions dogs, he had to be better, grow more or make the dogs more obedient, run faster and be stronger. He was a good man who was as straight and honest as the flight of an arrow and could be relied upon no matter what the situation. Here he was far from Rome, the only one amongst them actually from the capitol, he had spent three years in the army and was an expert rider and knew how to treat most ailments and injuries that the animals picked up; an altogether invaluable member of the squad.