Thunder of the Gods (23 page)

He raised his arm to show a knot of scar tissue in his left armpit.

‘It healed perfectly, thanks to your wife’s expert care, so I’m as good as I ever was apart from some stiffness in the joint.’

He looked over at the waiting auxiliaries, then shook his head in disgust.

‘Hamians. You were in Hama after all, weren’t you?’

Marcus laughed.

‘One of my centurions was born and raised in the city, so it wasn’t hard for him to ride into the city and bring out civilian clothing for myself and Martos to wear. We entered Hama as merchants looking for silk at a better price than we’d have to pay in Antioch, and made contact with the prefects once you’d been and gone, to save them the embarrassment of having to lie to you. But what are you doing here? Surely the governor issued you with strict orders to apprehend the legatus?’

Felix smiled beatifically.

‘He told me not to come back without Rutilius Scaurus. So I ordered my men to load their horses with everything they would need for a march to the Euphrates and took them after the Gauls. Once I’d overtaken the legion, and it was apparent that the legatus wasn’t going to turn his men around, I decided to accompany him on his way, obviously making sure to point out to him that he’s acting in defiance of an order from his superior officer.’

He shrugged easily.

‘If the legion’s not for turning, and I’m expressly forbidden to return to Antioch without its legatus, then all I can do is tag along, and hope that he’ll eventually see sense. Of course, by the time we return to Antioch, if we survive whatever’s waiting for us over the border with Parthia, Domitius Dexter may have left his post.’

‘But nobody will be able to say that you didn’t execute your orders to the letter.’

Marcus thought for a moment.

‘Although I would have expected the governor to send further orders, when you didn’t return that evening?’

Felix nodded.

‘I expect he did. But there seems to be some sort of bandit gang operating on the road north from Antioch, deserters from a legion cavalry squadron. Two messengers have walked into the fortress already, stripped of their horses and indeed their messages, although interestingly they were allowed to keep possession of all their personal possessions and weapons. The Fourth Parthian’s legatus is expressing sympathy, but had declined to provide them with replacement mounts until these bandits have been dealt with, for their own safety. It seems he’s taking a fairly dim view of the governor’s fraudulent scheming, since he was already harbouring some fairly strong suspicions of his own. And he wasn’t the only one, it seems, since someone appears to have communicated their concerns to Rome, to judge from your swift means of transport out to the province …’

He smiled again, and Marcus shook his head with a knowing smile.

‘It was
you
, wasn’t it?’

Felix sniffed disdainfully.

‘No true gentleman would stoop to such a grubby scheme. I expect my father was only too happy to pass on my musings on why it was that the Gauls were so short of numbers. Although without evidence I’ve no doubt that the ghastly man will manage to slip off the hook. Come along, I’ll show you to the officers’ quarters and then to the bathhouse. You look like a man in need of a sweat and a shave. Oh, and don’t worry if you think you can hear shouting from the parade ground. First Spear Julius seems to be determined to drill some semblance of order into his new command, and he’s approaching the task in, shall we say, a somewhat brutalist manner?’

The legion marched east from Zeugma the next day, crossing the long pontoon bridge that gave the city its Greek name and using the road that ran straight for Edessa, capital of the client kingdom of Osrhoene. Moving in strict battle order, with scouts riding ahead, behind and to both flanks, the soldiers were for the most part now covering twenty miles a day without their former discomfort, but if the issue of their stamina had been resolved, it seemed that some among their ranks would never meet their first spear’s expectations in terms of either drill or weapons handling.

‘We’ll do it again tonight, gentlemen, and we’ll keep doing it until the entire legion can get out of its blankets and into formation to defend the camp in less time than it takes for a new recruit to blow his load the first time his mates take him into a brothel to get his fucking cherry popped!’

The legion’s centurions looked at each other in disgust at the prospect of yet another night’s sleep being rudely disturbed, and Julius shrugged, shaking his head at them.

‘Don’t be giving me the cow’s eyes, because one of these nights you might owe your life to these drills. If you want me to stop them then persuade your fucking halfwits to get it right.’

Scaurus had instructed his senior officers to take their share of the duties expected of the cohorts’ senior centurions, and Marcus took command of the night watch that evening with a wry smile at the duty centurions as they trooped away from the briefing.

‘You’re really convinced that the enemy are going to attempt a night attack at some point?’

Julius shook his head.

‘Far from it, Tribune …’

The emphasis that Julius had initially placed on his former subordinate’s title had vanished in an instant the moment that he’d been appointed as the legion’s first spear, a reflection on his own professionalism, but he was unable to resist speaking to the younger man in the same brisk manner that he used with his centurions.

‘But you know as well as I do that the one means of coming after us that we don’t prepare for will be the one they use to stick a big one right up us. So the scouts are out all day and in all directions, the legatus keeps drawing his maps with his Arab, the men practise formation manoeuvres two hours a day and they’ll keep on practising night camp defence until I think they’ve got it. And now, sir, I’ll go and see how the latest picture of the ground between here and Edessa is shaping up, and leave you to your rounds.’

Smiling at his friend’s back as he left the command tent, Marcus stepped out into the dusk’s faint light to find Martos waiting for him.

‘What is it now? Orders from the legatus to ride back to Zeugma in the hope of sneaking one of the Fourth Legion’s cohorts away while nobody’s looking?’

The Briton grinned at his acerbic humour.

‘No, Roman. I am simply bored and in need of entertainment. And what could be more entertaining than watching you inspecting the camp’s sentries. We’ll take this one along with us …’

He jerked a thumb back over his shoulder at the giant in the shadows behind him.

‘Just in case anyone needs a taste of discipline a little more effective than those silly sticks your centurions carry.’

The three men made a leisurely tour of the camp’s earth walls, checking that each cohort’s section of the defences was manned by the appropriate number of sentries and that none of them had succumbed to sleep. Reaching the Tungrian’s section of the perimeter, Marcus returned Quintus’s salute with a smile, the expression broadening as Sanga and Saratos stamped to attention.

‘Good evening, Centurion. All’s well?’

‘All’s well, Tribune sir.’

He’d turned to leave, only to look back when Sanga had blurted out a request.

‘Tribune sir, permission to ask you a question?’

Raising a hand to forestall Quintus’s inevitable outburst, Marcus raised an eyebrow at the soldier.

‘Yes, Soldier Sanga. I presume this is a military question, and not simply an enquiry as to the number and quality of the whores in Hama?’

‘No, sir. It’s just that Saratos here heard you telling one of your colleagues about a battle near here? A battle that didn’t go well for the legions?’

Marcus nodded.

‘The battle of Carrhae. Forty thousand legionaries commanded by a politician called Crassus confronted ten thousand Parthians led by a general called Surena. Twenty thousand of our men were killed on the battlefield, mostly killed by arrow wounds, and another ten thousand were taken prisoner. Rumour has it they were sold to the Parthians’ trading partners in the east. Not the brightest day in our military history.’

‘What happen to Crassus, Tribune?’

‘Crassus? He attempted to negotiate a retreat from Parthia the day after the battle, and was murdered by the enemy under a flag of truce. And just to prove there’s no justice, the Parthian general was also murdered, but by his own king, for being too successful and thereby threatening the man’s position. And, as my tutor used to tell me, we learn two things from all of this: never trust a Parthian general to keep his word, and never let yourself be seen as a threat to an insecure king! Good night gentlemen!’

He walked away into the darkness with the Britons following behind him. The sentries watched them leave in silence until Sanga snorted derisively.

‘The lesson I take from that little story has nothing to do with generals and kings, and a lot more to do with arrows.’

The days that followed soon settled into the same mind-numbing routine of marching, drilling, night exercises and exhausted sleep. In the evenings, as the shattered legionaries cleaned and mended their equipment under the watchful eyes of their centurions, Scaurus would sit in his tent with the Arab scout and plan the next day’s march with particular attention to the nature of the terrain across which they would be passing. The first three days’ march, covered at the standard pace to allow those men who still lacked stamina a chance to build their strength for the trials to come, took them from Zeugma to the Osrhoene capital Edessa, a way station on their route to Nisibis that the legatus considered a necessary evil.

‘King Abgar will be happy enough to replenish our rations, and will doubtless entertain the officers to a most excellent banquet in our honour, but I’ll be amazed if he has any more assistance to offer than his hearty good wishes. And we can be assured that the enemy will have enough spies in the city to ensure that their generals know all about us within days. We’ll camp outside the gates, far enough from the walls that even the keenest sighted watcher won’t be able to see the toys we’ve brought along.’

The single night spent outside the city was both a blessing and a curse for the men of the legion. On the one hand, they enjoyed a blissful night of uninterrupted sleep, as Julius elected not to provide any hint as to their growing abilities at the very particular drills to which they were usually subjected at the end of each day’s march. Conversely, however, the proximity of a city that, if the older legionaries were to be believed, contained enough taverns and brothels to entertain several cohorts at a time, was sheer torture for men confined to camp, with armed guards posted to keep the city from the legion and the legion from the city’s wine and women. They broke camp and marched away the next morning, their supply waggons refilled and the various implements, over which the craftsmen and smiths of Antioch had laboured mightily for Centurion Avidus, carefully concealed under sheets of rough canvas. Scaurus watched the preparations with quiet satisfaction, complimenting Julius on the changes that were starting to become evident in his command.

‘They’re looking more like soldiers, and less like a collection of whore mongers and idlers, which is to your credit. Please pass my congratulations to your centurions. You can also tell them that we’re going to need a faster pace from here, First Spear. It’s sixty miles to the next settlement, and I want to cover it as quickly as we can. Abbas tells me it’s as flat as a table ten miles to each side of the road all the way, and you know what that would mean if the Parthians were to take us by surprise. Can we do it in two days?’

To the dismay of all concerned, the next two days’ travel was indeed carried out at the quick march, and by dusk on the second day the legion was settling into a freshly dug camp outside the desert town of Constantina, with guards once more posted to ensure that legion and populace were kept well separated. Scaurus gathered his officers for a conference that night, showing them a map that the scout had drawn for him and pointing to a spot at its right-hand side.

‘That, gentlemen, is Nisibis. It’s four days’ march from here, so with fresh supplies and a good knowledge of the watering places between here and the city, we’re going all the way as quickly as we can. But …’

He looked around the tent, his face set hard.

‘There can be no doubt that the enemy know we’re coming. If there weren’t spies in Edessa, then it’s a certainty that there’ll be spies here, so close to the border with Adiabene. And the Parthians aren’t going to let us march into Nisibis, they’ll be determined to stop us somewhere between here and the city, with the certain intention of bringing us to battle on their ground, and on their terms. I, on the other hand, have other ideas. So from here on we march with cavalry scouts out in strength to the front and both flanks. And when our scouts find the enemy, the first spear and I will choose a course of action that will be dependent on exactly where we find ourselves at that point in time.’

He gestured to the map, largely bare of any notable terrain.

‘The secret of success in battle, gentlemen, is very often rooted in the general’s choice of ground. And this particular piece of the world is so well suited to the style of war that the Parthians have evolved that we’re going to have to be exceptionally light on our feet to even the odds up.’

The march resumed the next day, the soldiers’ usual grumbling redoubled by each man being required to carry a piece of equipment that had until then been stacked in carts in the legion’s baggage train, exchanging their pack poles for long wooden stakes topped with a pointed iron head, an iron square having been nailed to the wood halfway down its length to enable it to be hammered into the ground.

Ten miles into the march, the leading cohort halted without warning, and on reaching the column’s head Julius found Procurator Ravilla staring out over the desert before his men with a bleak expression, his marines unusually quiet as they surveyed the scene of carnage laid out before them.

‘If I’d known we were going to stumble over this, I’d have asked to take the rearguard for the day. My lads aren’t as used to this sort of thing as your legionaries.’