After another voting tally, Silius was smiling; clearly a sign the assembly had, at last, come to a decision.
“A majority has been reached,” he announced. “The votes cast by the centurions of the Twentieth Legion in electing the new centurion primus pilus are as follows: Centurion Primus Ordo Draco: ten votes. Centurion Primus Ordo Aemilius: fifteen votes. Centurion Pilus Prior Calvinus: thirty votes.”
Calvinus beamed when he heard the results. Aemilius closed his eyes, trying to mask his disappointment. Draco grimaced slightly and nodded in acknowledgment.
“Do any here object to the appointment of Centurion Calvinus to this position?” Silius then asked. The room was silent. Silius looked over towards Flavius. “Master Centurion Flavius, do you approve of the assembly’s decision?”
Flavius rose to his feet and addressed everyone in his ever commanding voice. “I have served with Centurion Calvinus since he came to the Twentieth Legion over ten years ago,” he began. “His service as a cohort commander has been distinguished, his valor in battle exemplary. To the centurions of the First Cohort I say this; Calvinus’ appointment is by no means a discredit to any of you. You are still the elite commanders of this legion. I trust Calvinus will be welcome as a brother into your ranks. He will lead you well.” He then turned to his chosen successor. “Centurion Calvinus, you have been given the greatest responsibility of any soldier within this legion. Every man from the lowest legionary to the centurions primus ordo will be looking to you as their example. Do right by them and continue to honor your legion.” With that, Flavius briskly exited the hall.
As a whole, the centurions of the legion rose to their feet and gave a loud ovation to the man who would soon be their master centurion.
Afterwards, Calvinus found he was alone with the four centurions of the First Cohort.
Draco was the first to speak. “Calvinus, the counsel of centurions has chosen well.” He extended his hand.
“I have to say, I thought the position would be mine,” Aemilius added. “However, I see that my peers felt differently. Know that we will serve you well,” Aemilius added, shaking Calvinus’ hand heartily.
The rest of the men followed suite, all congratulating Calvinus and promising to work well with him.
“Calvinus, your responsibilities have just been magnified ten-fold,” Flavius told him in private. “Leading the first cohort is one of your many primary tasks. There is much talent in this Cohort, and I advise you to use it well. Your main focus will be training and mentoring the junior centurions, as well as advising the legate and chief tribune. They will be looking to you for answers. When dealing with them, it is best to guide them so they can figure things out on their own. Sometimes they need a little nudge of experience to show them the way.” He handed Calvinus a goblet of wine.
“I am a little nervous about my appointment,” Calvinus admitted after taking a long pull off his wine.
Flavius waved him to take a seat.
“I’ve been a cohort commander for so long, it is what I am most comfortable with.” He continued. “I don’t know if I can live up to administering to the machinations of an entire legion.”
Flavius sat back, his fingers steeple under his chin as he listened.
“Calvinus, none of us ever are,” he replied. “I had more than my fair share of pitfalls when I first took the reins of primus pilus. You’ve got good men to work with. Let the primi ordinones run the First Cohort. The First is self-sufficient as it is. Focus your leadership at the legion level. Make yourself available to the cohort commanders and junior centurions. Legates and chief tribunes come and go, but you will be the mortar which holds this legion together.”
“You leave me with a vast responsibility,” Calvinus said. “I hope I prove to be a worthy successor.”
“You will,” Flavius reassured. “For it is you whom I wanted to replace me.”
Calvinus raised his eyebrows. “Why? You worked with the first rank centurions for so long, surely you would have wanted one of them to take over.” Flavius grinned and shook his head. “Calvinus, I see you still have much to learn.” Flavius finished his wine and signaled for a servant to refill his cup. “Just because I may be more familiar with the First Cohort’s Centurions does not mean I felt one of them was most worthy. Perhaps I should have done more to ensure one of them was more ready for the responsibility. All are fully capable of legion-level command. However, there is something about you that instills the men with respect and admiration for you.”
“I’m not sure I’m following you, Flavius,” Calvinus replied. “Draco and Aemilius are both my equals, if not my betters when it comes to tactics and strategy.”
“You underestimate yourself,” Flavius said, a slight trace of disappointment in his voice. “Draco can shatter the most disciplined enemy phalanx with his unorthodox tactics, and Aemilius has proven invaluable with his ability to work with our allied cavalry units. They are also two of the bravest men I have ever met. What separates you from them is your ability to work with the legion as a whole, not just your particular cohort.
“The first cohort oftentimes acts as its own entity, apart from the rest of the legion. Granted, the veterans of the cohort have earned the right to be a little bit elitist. A Master Centurion is the first spear of the entire legion, not just the First Cohort. Your peers know you; they know how to work with you. While none doubts Draco or Aemilius’ abilities, they do not know how they would be to work under. They know what falling under your command will mean. I’ve spoken to all of the centurions within the First Cohort and made my feelings clear to them. While I encouraged each to make his case before the assembly, they knew you were the one to beat. They realize you have the confidence and backing of the entire Valeria Legion.”
Sacrovir looked over the council of tribal chiefs he assembled. For most, the term “tribal” meant little anymore. Many had long since adopted the dress and manner of the Romans. They lived in lavish estates or in great halls, yet the price of their existence was eternal servitude to Rome, something which these men found to be intolerable. The leaders of the Andecavi and Turani tribes were conspicuously absent. Sacrovir held a separate meeting with them, and their part of the plan was already in the works. Little did they know, theirs was merely a ruse; they would be led by Sacrovir as lambs to the slaughter. Heracles and Florus sat on either side of him. Also with him was Julius Indus, a nobleman of Florus’ Treveri tribe. His cavalry regiment was stationed to the east, and Florus looked to subvert them to their cause.
“The Andecavi and Turani are ready to make war on Rome,” Florus announced.
This caused a stir amongst the various chiefs.
“Then we must rise up and support them!” a chief named Belenus shouted as he rose to his feet, a meaty fist in the air. “Let us join our valiant cousins in the liberation of our lands!”
The others started to clamor, voicing their support.
Florus looked at Sacrovir, who shook his head. “If we rise up now, every Roman legion within a thousand miles of here will be on our doorstep. What we need now is a ruse, a diversion, something that will lull the Romans into thinking they have our loyalty and support.” “What are you getting at, Sacrovir?” Belenus asked suspiciously.
Sacrovir smiled wickedly. “We will join forces with the Romans, our men fighting as auxiliaries against the Andecavi and Turani.” The chiefs were appalled.