Scaurus nodded.
‘Fifteen months. My cohorts’ initial mission to Tungrorum in Germania Inferior resulted in our being sent halfway across the empire to Dacia in defence of an imperial goldmine. It’s taken us half a year to make it back here, mainly due to the Danubius freezing solid for the best part of two months.’
Castus smiled knowingly, winking at Sorex.
‘Ah, there it is, just as I told you, Fulvius Sorex, Pannonia in the winter. Did you lose any men to the cold?’
Julius nodded, his face hard with the memory.
‘A few, until we learned not to put sentries out after dark during the worst of it.’
‘Yes indeed. Anyone foolish enough to make a move on you under such conditions would be stiff as a plank themselves long before they were in position to attack. But I digress. Suffice to say that a lot has happened in Britannia while you’ve been away. The Brigantes’ rebellion south of the wall was suppressed easily enough, given that the tribes to the north had been put down so hard before it started. I believe you played some part in that?’
‘We had a hand in it. Do continue, Prefect.’
Castus smiled indulgently at Scaurus.
‘I see you retain the same impatience you had as a younger man, Rutilius Scaurus, but I take your point. With the Selgovae, the Carvetii and the Votadini tribes all safely back in their boxes it was easy enough for Governor Marcellus to march his legions back south and rip through the Brigantes, and indeed he did so with such gusto that I expect they’ll be keeping their heads down for a good long time. Two men of military age crucified for every soldier that we lost, villages burned out for any hint of collaboration with the rebels, well, you know how it goes. The revolt collapsed almost overnight once the tribesmen realised that we were deadly serious about ending it, and that, we presumed, was that. I’d joined the Sixth Victorious by that time, and I was more than happy with what I found, a well-trained and aggressive legion whose commander was more than capable even if he did lack a thick stripe on his tunic.’
He shot a quick smile at the tribune, whose senatorial status was clear enough to the other men, and Sorex shrugged easily.
‘You know my views on the subject, Prefect Castus, a man doesn’t need to be of the senatorial class to have the ability to command a legion. Indeed Praetorian Prefect Perennis seems bent on removing the requirement, to judge from what I hear in my correspondence from Rome.’
Castus inclined his head in recognition of the point, flicking a glance across the Tungrian officers to find the young man who had been introduced as Centurion Corvus staring at Sorex with narrowed eyes, an expression which softened in an instant as he sensed the prefect’s gaze upon him.
‘So, all tribal uprisings in the legion’s operational area were defeated, and that, I assumed, would be that. The men were looking forward to the resumption of garrison duties and the chance to see the inside of a bathhouse again, while the centurions were planning some nice, hard patrolling to keep their troops in shape, and the occasional raid to make sure the natives knew who was on top. And, I have to say, I was in full agreement that this was the only sensible course of action given that the men had been at war for the best part of two years and were desperate for a rest and the chance to see the inside of their home fortresses again.’ Castus paused significantly for a moment. ‘And of course I was almost immediately proven to have it all wrong. Governor Marcellus had complete victory for the taking, but in that moment of triumph he over-reached himself. He decided to go one better than just restoring order to the north of the Emperor Hadrian’s wall and enforcing the peace from our existing line of forts. He decided instead to re-establish control of the northern tribes’ lands with boots on the ground, rather than simply following the decision that was made twenty years ago to simply leave them outside of the empire.’
Scaurus shook his head in disbelief.
‘Surely he didn’t … not the northern wall?’
‘He won’t get any closer to those chests than the rest of us managed. Those boys look every bit as keen as the marines were. And your lads aren’t going to make them any friendlier behaving like that, are they?’
Titus nodded his smug agreement with Dubnus’s bluntly stated opinion, and the two men watched pensively as Arminius strolled away from them up the quayside with his hands behind his back, ignoring the thirty-odd pioneers who were amusing themselves by sneering over at the legionaries and laughing with each other in the manner of men who were sharing a private joke. Their centurion took a deep breath of the sea-tinged air, inflating his barrel chest and rolling his massive head around his shoulders before replying.
‘And why send a barbarian to do a job that needs treading softly, eh? That boy’s never really happy without a sword in his hand and someone to fight.’
Predictably, the German got no closer to the chests than the nearest of the legionaries, who simply shook his head discouragingly and pointed wordlessly back at the watching Tungrian centurions. Arminius shrugged and turned away, pulling his cloak tighter about him as a wind from the sea swirled the mist that still hung in the air.
‘Told you so.’ Titus hooked a thumb over his shoulder at his men waiting patiently behind them. ‘The only way to get to see what’s in them would be to let my boys loose on those children …’
Dubnus shook his head in apparent disgust.
‘Bugger me, Bear, do you ever give it a rest? My boys this, my boys that …’ He spat over the quayside into the dark water swirling around the jetty’s thick wooden pilings. ‘I’ll tell you what, let’s swap. You can have a play with my century, and find out what it’s like commanding men with a little more in their favour than big muscles and loud voices, and I’ll give your boys a taste of real discipline, rather than all that warrior brotherhood rubbish you spoil them with.’
Titus smirked at his colleague in return, drawing himself up to his full height and looking down his nose at the irritated Dubnus.
‘Discipline? With a bunch of girly men you stole from a legion? Men their centurion was happy to see the back of given their habit of running away whenever a fight was at hand? Any of my boys could run your century, little brother, so why would I lower myself to such a thing?’ A crafty smile crept onto his face. ‘And besides, it takes a big man to control a herd of bulls like the Tenth, I’m not sure you’d be our sort of centurion, YourHighness.’
Castus nodded grimly at the Tungrian tribune.
‘Oh yes, he did. He ordered all three legions north again, minus a couple of cohorts apiece to keep control of the Brigantes, and he ordered all three of the legions’ legati to re-establish Roman control over the northern tribes in the only way he believed possible, by putting their lands inside the empire. He re-garrisoned the wall that the Emperor Antoninus built a hundred miles to the north of the wall raised by his predecessor Hadrian …’ The camp prefect sighed, shaking his head. ‘The idiot sent the legions north to re-occupy a defensive line that has been found to be untenable on the two previous occasions it has been manned. Even I, brand new to the province, could see that it was a mistake, and the gods know that the legati did their best to dissuade him from the idea, but you know what a stubborn old bastard he is once he has the bit between his teeth. The worst of it is that he did it without any reference to Rome, whose permission for such a rash move we can be sure would never have been forthcoming.’
Scaurus stared in disbelief at the older man.
‘Ulpius Marcellus took it upon his own head to set imperial frontier policy? Had he gone utterly mad?’
‘Apparently not, but he might as well have. Once it became clear to the legions that they were going to be occupying the new line of defence for the foreseeable future, well, they revolted, and pretty much to a man. The legionaries of the Twentieth went as far as to offer their legatus Priscus the purple, which was the one thing guaranteed to get the attention of Rome even if he did display the remarkably good sense to refuse their generous offer of the throne. Once the praetorian prefect got to hear about the whole sorry mess he started throwing orders around like the bride’s mother on the wedding day, understandably given that he’s effectively running the empire, and none of it was ever going to be pretty. The governor’s already gone, of course, recalled to Rome by a fast courier for an interview without wine with some fairly serious characters, I’d imagine, and with his career in tatters around him.’