‘Our noble legate is of the opinion that there is no prospect of serious uprisings in this area during the rest of this year. This judgement is based on all the reports he has received, including those of the regionarii. I take it there is no reason to change this assessment?’ Crispinus and the others all looked at Ferox.
‘No,’ he said, still unsure what was meant by the abduction of Genialis, but unable to see in it hints of trouble on any great scale. ‘There is no reason to alter it. After all, the distance is not so great. Within a few days all the troops could return to their garrisons.’
‘Indeed – and come with plenty of company from the other detachments involved in the training. Good,’ Crispinus concluded, and went back to the details of how and when to move each contingent and ensuring that it would be properly supplied wherever it went. Cerialis’ cornicularius acted as the main recorder of their decisions, although there were several other military clerks with him to make copies where necessary.
Halfway through the second hour they turned to the census that was to begin around the time of the army exercises, in the region to the north. ‘We may be called upon to provide some soldiers to assist in the process,’ Cerialis informed them. ‘And I seem to remember from history that the first census on a conquered people is sometimes resented, perhaps violently.’
‘Would you like strangers coming around asking lots of questions about your family and your possessions, all the time knowing that the mongrels want to tax you?’ The room went silent save for the surprised gasp of the cornicularius. Ferox had not realised that he had not just thought the words but spoken them out loud. After a moment Crispinus and the three prefects all burst into laughter, the soldiers following their lead.
‘Fair enough,’ the tribune said, ‘the tax gatherer or the one who paves the way for him is bound to be an unwelcome guest. Reminds me of that little poem of Catullus about the worst wind blowing at a man’s house being his mortgage.’ There was more laughter. ‘Finally, there is one more matter, in fact one directly from our most noble princeps, who instructed the outcome of a trial to be read out in every army base since it concerned military discipline as well as other matters.’ Crispinus paused, deliberately overacting in feigned discomfort. ‘I fear it is all a little sordid,’ he went on.
‘Well, that should brighten things up.’ Rufinus was smirking and the other two prefects chuckled.
‘Yet it is a sad tale, of betrayal and infidelity. I almost feel I should set it to verse!’ That brought open laughter. Ferox clenched the fingers of his right hand as tightly closed as he could.
‘There is – I am tempted to say was as it sounds like a story – a young aristocrat just come back from his time as tribune in a legion. Now where have I heard that before.’ There was more laughter, and the prefects were enjoying it. The clerks looked bored and were still scratching away to finish their notes. Ferox decided a smile was appropriate.
‘In this case the legion was in Syria. Hot climate, you know, eastern passions and dark appetites, so the setting will give you warning. Now our young tribune was married to a young lady called Gallitta. Well, there’s no law against that, although the wise young tribune remains unattached so that he can devote all his strength and intelligence to serving as a soldier.’
‘Of course,’ Brocchus cut in, the words dripping with sarcasm. Most senior tribunes did as little work and spent as little time with their legion as possible.
‘They were young and in love.’ Crispinus almost sang the words as he ignored the interruption. ‘And the thought of parting for months or years was too much to bear, so the dutiful wife packs up all her perfumes, her silks, her intimate things, and follows her husband to Antioch. Little more than a blushing bride, her innocence left her unprepared for life in that den of iniquity.’ Ferox felt his heart sink at the obvious direction of the story.
‘You’ve been there then,’ Brocchus interrupted again.
‘How could you think such a thing?’ Crispinus smiled happily, then frowned as if pondering something. ‘Ah yes,’ he said at last. ‘Gallitta, I recollect her now. No more than seventeen. Small girl, a little plump, but in the right places. Generous hearted, if I recall. That, I fear, is part of the tragedy.
‘Alas, when he arrived our young hero did his best to be diligent, working hard, and accepting missions away whenever he was ordered by his superiors. That was the problem. Poor little Gallitta was left at his house in the legion’s base, so close to Antioch, alone with her perfumes, her intimate things, and her silks. Fortunately, there were kind folk to console her. One was a centurion – well, we all know what they’re like.’ He pretended to notice Ferox sitting in the corner of the room for the first time. ‘Of course, not all of them, dear Flavius Ferox.’
‘Centurions are the pillars of the army,’ Brocchus said flatly, while the others grinned.
‘Well, the pillar in question was a bit crooked, but a mature man and vigorous in every way, while ardent in his determination to console the lonely wife.’ Crispinus spread his hands apologetically. ‘I am tempted to add consoling her several times a night and in the afternoons as well, but that would be to embellish too far the raw judgement and summary sent from Rome. Such lewdness is inappropriate, for I have no wish to shock the delicate mind of the cornicularius either.’ The prefect’s clerk had been giving the speech his rapt attention for some time now, his work forgotten.
‘As comedy must teach us to beware, the husband came home earlier than expected, in time to see this pillar of the army scrambling out of the window. Once again, I shall refrain from adding details from my sordid imagination.’
‘You can leave it to our sordid imaginations,’ Rufinus said.
Cerialis grinned. ‘Speak for yourself,’ he said, patting the other man on the shoulder.
‘The tribune went to the legate of the province to complain, and the governor wrote to the emperor to report this breach of discipline, which so undermined the hierarchy of the army – not to mention the sacrosanct and honoured institution of marriage. To cut a long story short…’
‘Bit late for that,’ Rufinus whispered loudly.
‘As I say, to cut a long story short, the centurion is dishonourably discharged, and sent in exile in perpetuity, unless the emperor chooses to change his mind. He’s gone to Tomi, so can no doubt console himself with following in the footsteps of Ovid.’
‘One shagger after another, and good riddance to them both,’ Rufinus said. For the first time Cerialis looked a little shocked, evidently at the word not the sentiment.
‘What distressed the emperor was that the betrayed husband now thought the matter solved. With his rival packed off to dwell among the barbarians, he settled back to domestic bliss – no doubt several times each night and so on… It was up to the Lord Trajan to remind him that adultery cannot be committed by one person on their own. Back in Rome the former tribune was ordered to make a formal accusation against the affectionate Gallitta, who was of course found guilty. As a blushing new divorced woman, she is now in exile – of course somewhere a long away from Tomi as well as from Italy.’
‘Any chance it’s Britannia?’ Rufinus said, licking his thin lips underneath his beard and laughing with the others.
Crispinus hushed them and made his face serious. ‘The point of all this is to emphasise the dangers to military discipline and the good of the empire that come from such gross misbehaviour. The centurion brought shame on his rank and the army. Not only has the emperor decreed that his offence and punishment be announced throughout the army, but he is also to be named, so that all shall know of his dishonour. And that name is…’ He paused, shook his head and reached down for one the tablets on the table. ‘Ah yes, it is Titus Flavius Ferox.’