‘Yes, sir,’ Vespasian admitted, burning with shame inside, due as much to realising now the magnitude of his mistake as to the amused looks on the faces of Corvinus and Geta as he received this very public dressing-down. Only Sabinus remained neutral as Plautius paced up and down his tent. Rain drummed on the roof, increasing and decreasing in intensity with each gust of wind. The musty smell of damp woollen clothing pervaded the atmosphere.
‘In war delay can be fatal, legate,’ Plautius continued once he had collected himself somewhat. ‘Just read Caesar again if you want to understand the importance of seizing the initiative with quick action.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Why didn’t you send cavalry out after them as soon as you were told?’
‘The fog was-’
‘The fog! We all had fog; you’re going to have to get used to the fucking fog in this damp arsehole of the world. If you’d sent cavalry immediately they could have at least been closer to the bastards by the time the fog lifted; they were on foot, for fuck’s sake!’
‘Yes, sir; I’m sorry, sir.’
Plautius glared at Vespasian for a few moments before letting out a huge sigh. ‘Well, it’s done now and a thousand men is not such a great number in the scheme of things. But let that be a lesson to you, Vespasian: next time I order you to do something, you do it unless you can show me the evidence that Jupiter himself came down and personally gelded you and put out your eyes in order to stop you; because if you can’t, that’s what I’ll do to you. Do you understand me?’
Vespasian winced again. ‘Yes, sir!’
‘Good. Sit down.’
Vespasian sat back down next to Sabinus as Geta and Corvinus exchanged an amused glance.
‘Stop smirking,’ Plautius growled at them as he sat at his desk. ‘I expect it’s not the last mistake that will happen on this trip but I’m sure it’s the last that Vespasian will make. Now, to business, gentlemen.’ He unravelled a scroll and perused it for a few moments before looking back up at his subordinates. ‘So far it’s gone reasonably smoothly. To sum up: Sabinus found no one to the south worth mentioning, we’ve seized the harbour by the white cliffs and the navy has started work on it. We have a large squadron in the Tamesis estuary to our north and Rutupiae is secure and work has started on the port. The Ninth has occupied Geta’s camp and has already laid two miles of temporary road from there towards us. Adminios is in place as our puppet and has received the loyalty of the local sub-tribes and a civil administration favourable to us is being created under the watchful eye of Sentius. Our cavalry patrols report that there is no large enemy force between us and the Afon Cantiacii and the bridge is still standing. So with our rear and flanks secure we start our push west immediately. I want your legions ready to march two hours after this briefing ends; is that understood?’
‘Yes, sir!’ all four legates replied simultaneously.
‘Good. That was the easy part; from now on we’ve lost all elements of surprise and the Britons know the land far better than we do. We shall move forward on a broad front, quickly, but taking care not to damage too much of the farmland; I want a good harvest growing behind us as I don’t intend that either our lads or the tribes that surrender to us should go hungry this winter. Sabinus’ Fourteenth will be my centre; it’s mainly undulating ground between here and the river so there’s no need to deviate unless the enemy appear. Your auxiliaries will act as the army’s forward scouts.
‘Geta, your Twentieth will take the right flank. You will keep to within two miles of Sabinus. Your task is twofold: firstly to stop anything getting around that flank, and secondly to keep in contact with the squadron in the estuary who will be supplying us. Your auxiliaries will be busy.
‘Vespasian, your Second will be our left flank. You will advance along the north side of these downs with your auxiliaries taking the high ground. I want regular reports from the south side; it wouldn’t do to have an army sneak past us that way.
‘Corvinus, the Ninth will guard our rear. Two of your auxiliary cohorts will stay in Rutupiae making the camp a permanent structure. Another two will carry on constructing the road; I want nothing fancy, we’ll build a proper one when we have the time and slaves to do it. Just make it so that it can take wheeled transport. I want your cavalry alae patrolling the south making our presence felt amongst the locals so that they get used to us. The legion and the rest of your cohorts will follow half a day’s march behind us just in case something slips behind our backs.
‘You will all take your own baggage with you now that it’s caught up; the siege train and other heavy stuff will advance with the Ninth. Any questions, gentlemen?’
‘Will the Ninth always have to tag along in the rear?’ Corvinus asked with more than a hint of derision in his voice.
‘You will address me as sir or general, legate!’ Plautius snapped, slamming his fist down on the desk top. ‘Being the Empress’ brother does not put you above me here. This is an army in a war zone not a dinner party on the Palatine; do you understand me, lad?’
Corvinus all but recoiled at the vehemence of the put-down and the insult. The muscles in his cheeks tensed and re-tensed. ‘Yes, general,’ he answered eventually.
‘That’s the second time you’ve questioned my orders recently; there’ll not be a third. The Ninth will do as it’s told; it will be our rearguard for this river but it’ll be the freshest legion when we come to the Tamesis and then it’ll see hard fighting. Once we’ve secured the Tamesis crossing and whilst we’re waiting for Claudius, your legion will head south and place Verica on his throne and then take Vectis in preparation for the push west next season; so you’ll have plenty to do. I know from our time in Pannonia together that you’re up to it, Corvinus; that’s why I didn’t object when you were made a part of this army.’ Plautius pointed his finger threateningly at Corvinus’ face. ‘Don’t give me cause to regret it.’ He rolled up his scroll and then stood and addressed the other three legates. ‘We march in two hours; that gives you four hours before you’ll need to build camps for the night. By then I want Vespasian and Geta’s legions in the positions I’ve given you either side of Sabinus ready for a hard day’s march tomorrow. I intend to be at the Afon Cantiacii by dusk the following day; let’s hope that we don’t find it held against us. Dismiss, gentlemen.’
The sun warmed Vespasian’s face for the first time since arriving in Britannia as he and Magnus, accompanied by a turma of the II Augusta’s legionary cavalry, rode up the grass-covered northern slope of the hills on the left flank of the army’s advance. With the sun out, the landscape took on a completely different aspect. Gone was the gloom of dripping vegetation and rain-spattered puddles on mud-churned ground, all pressed down upon by a heavy, grey sky that seemed so low as to be touchable. In its stead was a lush, green countryside of pasture, woods and freshly sprouting wheat fields; the air was clear and fresh, and with the warmth returning to his body Vespasian felt that it might not be such a miserable land after all.
It had been two days since Plautius’ briefing and the advance had been as fast as it had been uneventful; the only obstacles to their progress had been the weather and the occasional enemy cow or sheep, which invariably found its way to the cooking fires of whichever century claimed the honour of tackling such a fearsome foe.
‘I’m beginning to think that a plague has wiped out almost every living thing west of Cantiacum,’ Magnus commented as they passed yet another deserted farmstead. ‘And judging by the freshness of the sheep shit it must have been very recent.’