There were no legionary guards at the Praetorian Gate, just the centurion of the watch who looked grimly at Vespasian as they approached.
‘I don’t know what’s got into them, sir,’ he said, saluting. ‘It’s been brewing all day since we found the bodies.’
‘What bodies, Albinus?’ Vespasian asked returning the salute.
‘Three of our lads were found this morning in the woods, sir; they’d been missing for a couple of days. They were nastily cut up, been worked over with knives so I’m told; didn’t see them myself though. Two of them are dead and the survivor’s in a pretty bad way.’
‘Thank you, centurion,’ Vespasian said, passing through the gate on to the Via Praetoria, followed by Sabinus and Magnus.
The camp was speckled with large and small groups of legionaries arguing amongst themselves either in the pools of flickering torchlight or in the shadows between the barrack huts. Here and there fights had broken out which the hard-pressed centurions, aided by their seconds-in-command, the optiones, were having trouble stopping, but they seemed to still retain their authority and received no counter-blows as they waded into the knots of fighting legionaries, breaking them up with sharp cracks from their vine canes.
‘At least discipline hasn’t totally broken down,’ Vespasian observed as he watched a centurion violently haul a grizzled-looking veteran off his bloodied younger opponent. The older man went to strike the centurion but then lowered his fist as he realised that there were no mitigating circumstances for striking a senior officer: the punishment was death.
‘It’s a fucking shambles,’ Sabinus said derisively. ‘What do you call good discipline in the Fourth Scythica if this isn’t a total breakdown? This would have been a cause for decimation in the Ninth Hispana.’
Vespasian was not about to get into an argument about the relative merits of his and Sabinus’ old legion. ‘Shut it, Sabinus; if there is one thing that I need to do now it is to look dignified. I must find Paetus, you go with Magnus and wait in my quarters; this is a military matter and doesn’t involve you.’ He adjusted his toga over his left arm, crooked before him, and, with his head held high, started to walk slowly down the Via Praetoria, disdaining the chaos all around him. As he passed the various groups, the shouting and fighting gradually ceased as the legionaries noticed their tribune, haughty as a magistrate back in Rome, resolutely refusing to acknowledge them. The innate respect that they held for the authority of those of higher birth brought them back to their senses and they disengaged from their arguments and confrontations and began to follow Vespasian, in silence, towards the Principia at the centre of the camp.
Once there, the crowd that was already gathered outside parted for him and he ascended the few steps and passed between the columns that supported the portico. The two centurions guarding the garrison’s headquarters from the angry mob snapped to attention with a jangling of phalerae and presented immaculate salutes. Vespasian responded then entered the building without looking back at the hundreds of men now congregated outside.
Publius Junius Caesennius Paetus rose from his chair behind the large desk at the far end of the room. ‘Ah, tribune, good of you to come,’ he exclaimed, beautifully enunciating each syllable with his clipped aristocratic tone. ‘I do hope I didn’t interrupt your evening with the Queen; your man said that you and your brother were visiting her.’
‘No, sir, we met Magnus on our way out,’ Vespasian replied, walking the twenty or so paces to the desk in the sputtering light of flaming sconces.
‘Oh, good, good. I’m looking forward to meeting your brother, he served with the Ninth Hispana in Africa during the rebellion, I believe? My cousin was there as a tribune with the Third Augusta at the time; they had a tricky time of it. Perhaps you will both dine with me tomorrow?’ Paetus said, sitting back down and gesturing to the chair on the other side of the desk. ‘Please, make yourself comfortable, Vespasian.’
‘Thank you, Paetus,’ Vespasian said, following his superior’s lead and dropping out of military formality.
‘We’ve a bit of a delicate situation on our hands at the moment: the men aren’t happy, they started fighting amongst themselves this evening, then later I had a deputation from them. It is, as you know, their right to bring their grievances to their commanding officer.’
‘Indeed. I noticed some discontent amongst them when I came back from hunting earlier,’ Vespasian replied, trying to keep the provincial burr of his Sabine country accent to a minimum, as he always did when talking with this cultured patrician. ‘What are their complaints?’
‘Well the crux of the matter is that they’re bored, but we all knew that. Hades, we’re all bored, I’m bored witless stuck in this poxy place; but they at least get their annual leave, whereas the likes of you and I are here for the duration. I haven’t seen my little Lucius since he was five, he’s almost ten now. Nor have I been to the theatre or seen a wild beast hunt for over four years, and I love a good wild beast hunt as you know.’
‘Yes, but boredom is no excuse for what was going on out there.’
‘No, no, of course not; the ring leaders will have to be flogged then transferred to another cohort, and I’m afraid we’ve got to execute a couple of the chaps tomorrow morning for striking superior officers; they’re in the guardhouse at the moment feeling pretty stupid, I should imagine. There’s no need for that sort of behaviour.
‘The trouble is that this morning we found three men who’d been tortured rather savagely; one’s still alive, he’s in the hospital, the doctor says he may live, though I don’t think that I’d want to if I were him, but that’s by the by. There were two other bodies found, incidentally, a couple of messengers; they looked to be imperial couriers but there was nothing on them to identify them so we’ll never know. Anyway a lot the men want their revenge; you know, go and torch a few villages, lop off some limbs and rape any female under the age of sixty. I explained to them that that sort of thing is just not on any more since we put down the rebellion and most of them took the point. But then a few hotheads started going around saying that it wasn’t fair that they were stuck here and their mates in the other eight cohorts are up in Moesia having a fine old time of it fighting off the incursions from the other side of the river.’
‘I can see their point, but what can we do about it?’
‘Ah, well, that was what the deputation was about. They want me to write to Governor Pomponius Labeo and ask him to rotate them back to Moesia and send another two cohorts to replace them. I have to say that I think it’s not such a bad idea. I wanted to run it past you, as their tribune, before I spoke to them again; which I must do soon as they are still arguing amongst themselves. There’s a hard core that won’t take no for an answer and want to take matters into their own hands.’
‘It is a good idea. The men are losing their sharpness after so much inactivity, so from a military point of view it makes sense; but the trouble is that my brother tells me that Poppaeus Sabinus is back in charge in Moesia, Pomponius is now just the legate of the Fourth Scythica again.’
Paetus screwed his face up; he and Poppaeus had never got on. ‘Well, I’ll write to Poppaeus then, the oily little new man.’ Paetus looked at Vespasian apologetically. ‘Sorry, dear chap, no offence meant.’
Vespasian smiled at him; although Paetus came from a very old and noble family of Etruscan origin that boasted many consuls, he had always treated Vespasian as an equal, at least in military terms. ‘None taken, Paetus.’