The Gladiator

'Corvinus, sir. Lucius Junillus Corvinus.'

'Corvinus, eh?' Macro smiled.' Crow - it suits you. Now then, we have people out there who need our help. For now we are just going to help the survivors. Dig out any of those trapped in the ruins, then we have to feed them, see that they have fresh water and shelter. In the longer term we will need to make sure that there is order. If the food runs short then we're going to be hard pressed to keep things peaceable. In that event, I need every man of the Twelfth Hispania properly equipped and ready to fight. So that means you will need to pull your thumb out of your arse and make sure the men have what they need. Got that?'

'Yes, sir. I'll do my best.'

Macro shook his head. 'Best isn't good enough. You will do what I need you to do. If you can't do the job then I'll send you back to the ranks and find some one who can.'

'B-but you can't do that, ' Corvinus stammered. 'I will protest to the prefect, sir. You have no authority to remove me.'

'You can protest all you like. The prefect is dead.'

'Dead?'

'He was killed when the earthquake hit Gortyna. Him and most of the senior officials running the province. That's why Senator Sempronius is taking charge of things. That's why I am in charge of the cohort, and why you are going to have to start earning your pay for the first time in years.' Macro paused and then gently punched the man on the chest. 'It's all down to us, Corvinus. We're all that stands between those people out there, and starvation and chaos. Now, I'll ask you one time only. Can you do your job?'

Corvinus took a deep breath and nodded.

'Good man! Now then, I want a full inventory of the cohort's kit in my hands before the first change of watch tonight. You'd best start now.'

'Yes, sir.' Corvinus saluted and turned away, hurrying across the courtyard to the supply office and storerooms. Macro watched him for a moment and then sighed. He hoped that this was going to be the briefest command he would ever hold. Just long enough to set the cohort back on its feet and deal with the crisis in Matala before a new prefect arrived. Then he, Cato and the others could continue their voyage back to Rome. The sooner the better, he mused as he made his way back to the prefect's office.

Once he had finished reading through the waxed note tablets, Macro sent for Portillus. While he waited, he helped himself to one of the small jars of wine that the prefect had kept in a small rack in the corner of the office. Several tiles had fallen in and smashed the jars in the upper section of the rack, but some at the bottom had survived.

He tugged the cork stopper out and sniffed. A fine aroma wafted up into his nostrils and he smiled. Clearly the prefect had been a man who knew how to indulge himself. Shutting one eye, he peered into the jar.

'And half full.' He smiled to himself as he took the jar and a silvered cup back to the desk and filled the cup almost to the brim.

'Not a total disaster then.'

There was a knock at the door, and without waiting for a response, Portillus opened it and entered the office. A quick frown flitted across his face as he saw the wine, and then glanced to the surviving jars in the corner of the room. Macro realised that he had hoped to have them for himself now that the previous commander had no earthly use for such luxuries.

'Ahem, you sent for me, sir.'

Yes. Shut the door.'

Once the do or was closed and Portillus was standing at ease in front of the desk, Macro cleared his throat and began. 'This is not a good cohort, Centurion, as I am sure you know. The organisation is slack, the men are generally second-rate and the officers are worse. However,' he paused, 'that is about to change. And since you are my second in command, you are going to help make that change. Is that clear?'

Portillus nodded doubtfully

'I can't hear you, Centurion.'

'Yes, sir. It is clear.'

'Good.' Macro tapped the wax tablets. 'I want the best eighty men in the cohort to form a fighting century. They are to have the best of the kit, and they are to be commanded by the best officer. Who would you recommend?'

Portillus pursed his lips a moment before he replied. 'Centurion Milo, sir. He was promoted from the legions a year ago.'

'Then he shouldn't have gone soft yet. Fine, Milo it is. He is to choose his standard bearer, optio and clerk as he sees fit.'

'Yes, sir.'

'As for the rest of the men, they are going to work in the town at first light. They are to leave their kit here in barracks, but keep their swords, and divide into two teams. Half can deal with rescuing people from the ruins and carrying the injured up here to be treated.

The others are to forage through the ruins for any supplies of food and wine. You can detail some of them to start carrying water from the nearest streams to start filling the cisterns.'

'But that'll take ages, sir.'

'Well, we're not going anywhere for the moment, are we, Portillus?'

'No, sir.'

'Fine, then those are the orders for tomorrow. Make sure the men are told that there is to be no pilfering, mind. If they encounter any civilian looters they are to put a stop to it. Knock heads together if you must, but don't go straight in with the blade. The people out there have suffered enough already. One final thing. According to Corvinus we have some tents in stores. They're old and probably haven't been used for years, but they might be serviceable for the local people. Have some of the men set them up on the slope facing the acropolis, outside of the town.'

Portillus nodded, and then chewed his lip. 'Sir?'

'What?'

'Something just occurred to me. Most of the food in Matala was stored down in the warehouses. Near the main market.'

'So?'

'The wave destroyed the area, and carried away most of the debris when it receded. What's left will have been ruined. The only other food will be what was in the houses when the earthquake struck.

That won't amount to much, sir.'

'Hmm, you have a point.' Macro sat back and stroked his jaw. 'So we'll find what we can and then look for other sources of food. Any estates near to the port?'

Portillus thought for a moment.' The nearest one is further along the coast, owned by Senator Canlius. It produces olive oil and grain.'

'That's good for a start then. I'll send some men with wagons.

They can take what we need and let the landowner bill us when word gets back to him in Rome.'

'Senator Canlius won't like that, sir.'

'Probably not.' Macro sniffed. 'But it won't be my problem by then, so I don't care. We have to ensure a good supply of food so our men and the people don't starve while we sort things out.'

'Let's hope we can, sir.'

'Oh, we will.' Macro smiled. 'I won't stand for anything else. Now then, that's all for now, Portillus. I'll have the clerks draw up the assignments for each unit. They'll be with you and the other officers once they are ready. As soon as the sun rises I want the Twelfth Hispania to get to work.'

There was another knock at the door.

'Come!'

The do or opened and an auxiliary entered the room and saluted.

'Patrol's returning from the bay, sir.'

'Have they got the crew and passengers with them?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Good. Soon as they are through the gates, have the men sent to the barracks. Spread them around. Once they're there, you can tell 'em they have just been inducted into the cohort and normal military discipline applies. Better explain what that means to them, eh?'

The auxiliary grinned. Yes, sir.'

'Have the women and children brought to the basilica. They can kip down in the admin hall. Then ask the senator's daughter if she would be kind enough to join me.'

'Yes, sir.' The auxiliary saluted and left the room.