looking at him, he’s a slave with nothing to say on the subject. If you want to express an opinion on the matter, you talk to me. Well?’
‘Nothing.’
Dubnus exchanged an amused glance with Arminius, but his voice was a whiplash whose crack the assembled soldiers knew only too well.
‘Nothing, Centurion ! You’re a soldier now, not some wet-nosed brat who can sit around taking the piss out of us all day. Say it!’
‘Yes Centurion!’
‘Louder!’
‘Yes Centurion!’
‘Acceptable. See me tonight with clean kit.’
With a barely perceptible wink at Arminius he turned away and walked back out in front of the small detachment, looking across the line of men with a grim face, shaking his head as he watched one of Qadir’s archers struggling to control his mount’s restless urge to be away.
‘We’re taking a handful of archers, the meekest of my axemen and a selection of the most undependable characters in the cohort. Not to mention a retired centurion who’s old enough to be my father and who, rumour has it, once killed an emperor with his bare hands, and a boy with less than fourteen summers behind him. If we’re going to take part in some sort of mounted purse-cutting competition then we’re well looked after …’
‘Where we’re going, Centurion, we’re going to need every skill you see before you.’
The burly Briton turned and saluted his superior, clearly unabashed.
‘Wouldn’t we be better off taking every man we’ve got, sir, if it’s going to be that risky?’
Scaurus shook his head with a grim smile.
‘I’ve told you before that where we’re going a couple of cohorts wouldn’t do any more than get the attention of the locals, and given what we’re going to do, I think that the ability to blend into the landscape is going to be our best defence.’
Dubnus nodded with pursed lips, looking along the line of men.
‘I can’t argue with that. If we have to fight our way out of any more trouble than a few underfed tribal hunters it’s going to get ugly faster than Sanga went through his back pay when Cotta told him he was coming along with us.’
He turned to Scaurus.
‘We will be travelling through the German forest, Tribune, and not going anywhere near the swamps and marshes that Cotta keeps going on about?’
The officer laughed.
‘No matter how many times I tell that man he refuses to believe me. The land on the far bank of the Rhine is much like that to the west, farmland where the soil’s good enough, forest on the hills and yes, along the rivers’ courses, some boggy ground, which of course, without proper estate management, hasn’t been dealt with the way it has to the south of the Rhenus. There’s a good deal of it in the north of the tribe’s territory, but we’ll not be going anywhere near that.’
‘Ah, but what about the mists, eh Tribune? Thick, impenetrable mists so murky a man can’t see his own hand in front of his face.’
The three men turned to find Cotta behind them, dressed for the road and ready to march.
‘The lands on the far side of the Rhenus are no more or less prone to mist and fog than the German provinces on the western bank. You need to put whatever nonsense you’ve been reading out of your head. Who was it again?’
‘Tacitus.’
The tribune grinned at the veteran officer.
‘Ah yes, Cornelius Tacitus. A great man of letters he may well have been, even if his understanding of military matters seems to have been sadly lacking, but I suspect that were we granted the ability to communicate with the good senator’s spirit, we would discover that he never actually did any of his research first hand. Germania may well bristle with forests and reek with swamps, but don’t expect the place to be some sort of sunless underworld, or the men we’re going up against to be anything more than men, with the same strengths and weaknesses we all have.’
Cotta shrugged.
‘I’ll wait and see, Tribune. But one thing’s fairly clear to
‘Nothing.’
Dubnus exchanged an amused glance with Arminius, but his voice was a whiplash whose crack the assembled soldiers knew only too well.
‘Nothing, Centurion ! You’re a soldier now, not some wet-nosed brat who can sit around taking the piss out of us all day. Say it!’
‘Yes Centurion!’
‘Louder!’
‘Yes Centurion!’
‘Acceptable. See me tonight with clean kit.’
With a barely perceptible wink at Arminius he turned away and walked back out in front of the small detachment, looking across the line of men with a grim face, shaking his head as he watched one of Qadir’s archers struggling to control his mount’s restless urge to be away.
‘We’re taking a handful of archers, the meekest of my axemen and a selection of the most undependable characters in the cohort. Not to mention a retired centurion who’s old enough to be my father and who, rumour has it, once killed an emperor with his bare hands, and a boy with less than fourteen summers behind him. If we’re going to take part in some sort of mounted purse-cutting competition then we’re well looked after …’
‘Where we’re going, Centurion, we’re going to need every skill you see before you.’
The burly Briton turned and saluted his superior, clearly unabashed.
‘Wouldn’t we be better off taking every man we’ve got, sir, if it’s going to be that risky?’
Scaurus shook his head with a grim smile.
‘I’ve told you before that where we’re going a couple of cohorts wouldn’t do any more than get the attention of the locals, and given what we’re going to do, I think that the ability to blend into the landscape is going to be our best defence.’
Dubnus nodded with pursed lips, looking along the line of men.
‘I can’t argue with that. If we have to fight our way out of any more trouble than a few underfed tribal hunters it’s going to get ugly faster than Sanga went through his back pay when Cotta told him he was coming along with us.’
He turned to Scaurus.
‘We will be travelling through the German forest, Tribune, and not going anywhere near the swamps and marshes that Cotta keeps going on about?’
The officer laughed.
‘No matter how many times I tell that man he refuses to believe me. The land on the far bank of the Rhine is much like that to the west, farmland where the soil’s good enough, forest on the hills and yes, along the rivers’ courses, some boggy ground, which of course, without proper estate management, hasn’t been dealt with the way it has to the south of the Rhenus. There’s a good deal of it in the north of the tribe’s territory, but we’ll not be going anywhere near that.’
‘Ah, but what about the mists, eh Tribune? Thick, impenetrable mists so murky a man can’t see his own hand in front of his face.’
The three men turned to find Cotta behind them, dressed for the road and ready to march.
‘The lands on the far side of the Rhenus are no more or less prone to mist and fog than the German provinces on the western bank. You need to put whatever nonsense you’ve been reading out of your head. Who was it again?’
‘Tacitus.’
The tribune grinned at the veteran officer.
‘Ah yes, Cornelius Tacitus. A great man of letters he may well have been, even if his understanding of military matters seems to have been sadly lacking, but I suspect that were we granted the ability to communicate with the good senator’s spirit, we would discover that he never actually did any of his research first hand. Germania may well bristle with forests and reek with swamps, but don’t expect the place to be some sort of sunless underworld, or the men we’re going up against to be anything more than men, with the same strengths and weaknesses we all have.’
Cotta shrugged.
‘I’ll wait and see, Tribune. But one thing’s fairly clear to
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