He spat the words out with a vehemence that made the first spear flinch minutely despite his attempt at portraying iron self-control.
‘Centurion Cotta is an experienced officer who, as you know all too well, has seen combat on numerous occasions in the course of his career. On top of which, he’s already commanded men of this legion, and in consequence he will be of great value to me as I get to grips with my new command. If you and your fellow centurions have any complaint with that decision I will be happy to hear that concern, and any recommendations you may have for me, in due course and in the time-honoured manner. I will not, to be very clear, be setting any store by an informal and highly irregular decision-making process that only serves to illustrate the sort of man my predecessor here seems to have been.’
He looked about him, staring with apparent curiosity at the rows of barrack buildings on either side of the street that ran to the headquarters building.
‘Now, to business. How many men do you have here in Antioch?’
Quintinus opened the tablet that had been sitting in his left hand.
‘Nine cohorts, Legatus. We’ve a large number of men on leave and on detached duties of various sorts, but this is the heart of the Third Gallic, with two thousand, nine hundred and sixty-four men available for duty.’
‘Nine cohorts, First Spear?’
Quintinus turned to Marcus, who had stepped forward alongside Scaurus with a look of incomprehension.
‘Yes Tribune …’
‘My name is Corvus. Marcus Tribulus Corvus. Where is the tenth cohort?’
Quintinus looked at Marcus for a moment before answering, a shadow of pain creasing his face.
‘We lost the Sixth on the other side of the Euphrates months ago, Tribune. They were killed to the last man, except for a few local scouts and a tribune who managed to evade the Parthians to bring the story of their deaths back.’
The younger man frowned.
‘He ran, rather than facing the enemy with his men?’
Quintinus shook his head.
‘Not really sir. I’d suggest you meet the young gentleman and draw your conclusions once you’ve looked into his eyes.’
Marcus nodded.
‘Fair enough, First Spear. And where might I find this man?’
The senior centurion pursed his lips.
‘In Daphne, Tribune, with the rest of the legion’s senior officers, yourself and the legatus here accepted. The legatus, Legatus Lateranus that is, arranged for himself and his young gentlemen to be quartered there when the legion’s not in the field.’
‘Daphne. I see. The place does have a certain … reputation.’
Scaurus smiled at Quintinus’s almost imperceptible flinch as a look of disgust crossed his tribune’s face.
‘Why don’t you take yourself off to Daphne, Tribune Corvus, and deliver an invitation to a briefing with their new legatus on my behalf? I’m sure you’ll find a way to make the point to them that any failure to attend this evening will result in their new legatus taking a positively violent exception to their continued occupation of their current positions.’
Marcus saluted and turned away. Quintinus was silent until he was out of earshot.
‘I can’t see our officers being all that happy to have their evening spoilt, Legatus. I believe they’ve recently become rather fond of dinner parties …’
He fell silent as Scaurus smiled and shook his head.
‘And just how many young gentlemen does my new legion have on its books, First Spear?’
Quintinus sighed.
‘Nine, Legatus. Two broad stripe tribunes and seven of the equestrian class.’
‘Nine. I see. And we are supposed to have how many exactly?’
‘Six, Legatus. One broad stripe tribune who has the role of your deputy, and five narrow stripe tribunes who are-’
‘Who should be competent military men, respected equestrian officers each with a cohort command under their belts and therefore respected by the legion’s centurions. They should be capable of performing the full range of administration for a pair of cohorts, and providing leadership in battle. Is that what they are, First Spear?’
Quintinus shook his head.
‘Our narrow stripe tribunes are for the most part serving for the first time. As, to be fair, are both of the broad stripe men.’
Scaurus looked at him.
‘Two senior tribunes?’
‘The legatus believes – believed - that a backup for his deputy would be a positive thing.’
The legatus shot him a derisive look.
‘So, they should be experienced soldiers, instead of which they all seem to be neophytes. We should have six, and instead we have nine of them. They are the sons of rich men, I presume, sent here purely because Antioch is something of a backwater where they will be at little risk of anything as vulgar as actually having to go to war. After all, the Parthians haven’t threatened the border for twenty years after the battering we gave them the last time they tried it on, so why not send their boys to Syria, and let them spend their time chasing girls in Daphne, eh?’
He stretched.
‘And now, First Spear, I think I’ll go and inspect my quarters. After that I’ll be going to my office to examine the Third’s records, and see what sort of legion it is that I’ve been bequeathed by Legatus Lateranus. You, no doubt, will be keen to greet my cohorts into camp; they should be here soon enough now under the command of my first spear. You’ll know him easily enough, he’s a little older than me, black hair and beard with more than a little grey, and spectacularly bad tempered even for a centurion. He’s in command of two full cohorts of Tungrian auxiliaries who the emperor has seen fit to second to this legion while it’s under my command. You might want to warn your officers that my Tungrians are battle hardened, and won’t take kindly to any of the usual games that tend to get played when new units arrive in a camp. So don’t say I didn’t warn you!’
He turned away, then spun on his heel.
‘I almost forgot. Doubtless you’ll also want to arrange for the traditional demonstration of your men’s abilities? Let me know what time tomorrow morning you’ll be parading the men, I’m looking forward to seeing if my new command has the skills to deal with what it’s going to be facing a few weeks from now.’
He walked away up the street, leaving the first spear staring at his back with a disquieted expression.
Marcus walked his horse through Antioch’s teeming crowds with a watchful group of legionaries detailed to escort him through the busy streets by Quintinus, men well accustomed to the variety of tricks and ruses employed by the city’s thieves and pickpockets. Hemmed in by the mass of humanity brought so close together by the lure of the city’s sophistication, he allowed himself to progress at the pace of the street, his senses still reeling at the rich smells of the taverns and spice shops after so long at sea, exotic scents underlaid by the deeper, richer stench of too many men and beasts packed into a confined space.
As the group of soldiers neared the southern wall, the city’s magnificent agora opened out to his left with the gaudily painted bulk of an amphitheatre rising behind it, the wide open space thronged with men gathered around a troupe of gladiators who were demonstrating their abilities to the admiring crowd. Halting his escort, Marcus mounted the horse so as to get a better view of the scene, watching through the colonnade that lined the street as matched pairs of fighters went through their mock-antagonistic routines to enthusiastic applause from the watching multitude. Most of them were no better than average, but among them were a few men who moved with crisp purpose, the arena killers against whom their hapless fellows were dead meat.
‘You like the games, do you, sir?’
The question broke his reverie, and the young tribune looked down at the soldier holding his horse’s bridle with a faint smile.
‘I was trained to fight by a man like that.’