‘Your men mocked me! There I was, retching, feeling terrible, and all they could say was, “Too much wine last night, tribune?” or, “Typical. An officer who can’t hold his drink!”’
Tullus put on a solicitous face. ‘That’s terrible, sir.’
‘One even said, “I’d like to see you in combat, tribune,”’ cried Tubero. ‘It’s insufferable. Outrageous!’
‘Did you spot the soldiers who made the comments, sir?’ asked Tullus, knowing full well what the answer would be.
‘Do you think I have eyes in the back of my head?’
‘No, sir.’
‘You must do something,’ hissed Tubero. ‘Such contempt cannot be tolerated.’
‘I didn’t like it the first time it happened to me either, sir.’ He smiled at Tubero’s shock. ‘It happens to all of us, sir, even Varus.’
‘It’s indiscipline of the worst kind!’
‘Different rules apply on the march, sir. Stupid jokes don’t harm anyone, and they pass the time.’ Tubero did not look convinced, and Tullus added, ‘The dogs have been ribbing me all morning because of the frequency with which I’ve had to piss. “Look! The centurion’s at it again.” “His bladder must be the size of an apple.” “Keep out of the way, brothers. Tullus is about to flood the place again!” I tolerate it, sir, because it makes me human in their eyes. Let’s be clear: they still have to follow orders – I don’t give them a pubic hair’s leeway on that – but it’s part of the marching ritual.’
There was silence for a moment, and then Tubero nodded. ‘So be it, centurion. I will overlook the men’s attempts at humour – this once. Let it be known that if it occurs again, I will have the whole damn cohort on latrine duties, and worse, for a month. Do I make myself clear?’ Despite the sweat coating his forehead, Tubero’s stare was unwavering.
‘You do, sir.’
‘As you were, then.’ Tubero gave his horse its head, and trotted off to the front of the column.
Tullus watched him go, thinking that perhaps his initial dislike of the tribune had been well founded after all. Despite this, what had just taken place wasn’t entirely bad. It took considerable spine for a freshly commissioned senior officer to disagree with a veteran centurion. Tubero might yet develop into a fine leader. Marshalling what was left of his goodwill, Tullus told himself that that would be the case. It felt better to think that rather than the other things Tubero could turn out to be.
Patrol routine took over once more. Several miles down the road, Tullus judged that it was time to halt for a meal break. The front and rear centuries had to remain on duty on the road and eat where they stood. Meanwhile, the four from the column’s middle spread out into a fresh tilled field, unslung their shields and devoured bread and olives. Tubero, who had returned, watched with clear annoyance, but did not intervene. ‘I’m not hungry,’ he snapped when Tullus offered him some food. It wasn’t long before he took off again with his entourage in tow, shouting over his shoulder that he would keep scouting out the road ahead. ‘Good fucking riddance,’ Tullus heard one soldier say. Fenestela, who was sitting beside Tullus, chuckled. Tullus couldn’t argue with the sentiments of either man, so acted as if he hadn’t noticed a thing.
The food helped Tullus’ hangover to recede, leaving torpidity in its place. He roused himself with an effort a while later. There would be time to sleep when they reached the marching camp. He ordered the legionaries back to the road. ‘Eight more miles,’ he remarked to Fenestela.
‘We’ve broken the back of it, sir,’ replied Fenestela. It was his stock phrase after the midday break.
As Tullus rode along, he began to daydream again about the whore in the vicus, but he did not entirely relax. Every so often, he studied the land to both sides, and the road in front and behind. He kept half an ear on his soldiers’ banter too, and was content that they seemed in good humour.
An hour or more passed in this fashion.
Then, in the distance, towards Vetera, a man shouted. The panicked tone roused Tullus at once. ‘Tell the optio to be ready for trouble. Pass the word back, all the way to the rear,’ he barked at the nearest legionary. Ordering the trumpeter to follow, he drummed his heels into his horse’s sides and rode forward at a steady canter.
It wasn’t long before Tullus could see three riders hammering along the road towards them. Tubero was out in the lead, and it was he who was yelling.
‘To arms! To arms!’
Although he could see no one behind Tubero, Tullus’ stomach did a neat roll. What in Hades has happened? he wondered, reining in. ‘Sound the halt,’ he ordered the trumpeter.
The trumpet’s blare had not finished before the ranks of soldiers had come to a stop.
‘Front century, yokes on the ground, by your feet. Javelins ready!’ shouted Tullus over his shoulder. ‘Wait for my command.’ He waited as Tubero galloped towards them. The tribune seemed uninjured; so too did his companions, which was one good thing.
Tubero sawed on his horse’s reins as he drew near to Tullus. ‘Ready the cohort for battle.’
‘What’s going on, sir?’
‘Half a mile up the road, I came across a group of the tribesmen who’ve been cattle rustling. The Tencteri, was it?’
‘That’s right, sir,’ replied Tullus, feeling the first traces of concern. ‘Can I ask how you recognised them as Tencteri?’
A withering look. ‘It was a group of young warriors, about twenty strong. They were driving cattle south. They didn’t seem to like the sight of me, and shouted insults when I demanded to know who they were, and what they were doing. That was enough for me.’
Tullus’ disquiet grew. Plenty of tribesmen disliked Romans, even more so if they were an arrogant young officer. ‘How do you know what they said, sir?’
Irritation flared in Tubero’s eyes. ‘I don’t. Now, I want two centuries to advance at the double. The tribesmen are still quite near the road. There’s plenty of room for our men to deploy before we envelop them.’
Cattle rustlers didn’t swan about in broad daylight, thought Tullus, but it wasn’t for him to question the tribune too much. ‘Front two centuries, prepare to advance,’ he barked. To Tubero, he said, ‘Will you ride alongside me, sir?’
‘I will.’ Tubero half drew his sword, allowing Tullus to note with horror that the blade was red with blood. Tubero laughed. ‘You seem surprised, centurion.’
‘Did they attack you, sir?’
‘No. I rode down the nearest – the one that was shouting insults. I don’t think he believed that I meant business until I cut him from neck to waist. By then it was too late.’ A snicker.
Tullus’ anger flared, but he swallowed it down. ‘Did you kill anyone else, sir?’
‘Sadly, no. Two of them lobbed spears at me. I judged it best to return to the patrol, and gather the men.’
Tullus offered up a quick prayer that the warriors were indeed Tencteri cattle rustlers. If they weren’t, well, the gods only knew the repercussions that would result. Roman law lay lightly on many of the surrounding tribes … He quelled his concern. ‘That was prudent, sir. Varus would not be happy if I came back without a tribune.’
Tubero sniffed. ‘But he will be happy that the rustlers who have been troubling the Usipetes have been dealt with.’
‘If they are the men responsible, sir’ – Tullus ignored Tubero’s indignant look – ‘Varus will be the first to congratulate you.’ If they’re not, he thought, he’ll be sending you back to Rome in disgrace, and serving me my own balls on a silver platter.
‘Come on,’ demanded Tubero. ‘We need to move fast, or they might abandon the cattle and get away.’
‘Aye, sir.’ Tullus regarded the trumpeter. ‘Find the centurion in charge of the third century. Tell him that the rest of the unit is to follow us at a fast pace.’ To the legionaries behind him, he bellowed, ‘First two centuries, with me – at the double!’
If the warriors hadn’t realised that Tubero and his companions were part of a larger group, they soon would, thought Tullus. A hundred and fifty men in full armour, running, made a lot of noise.