won’t sleep a minute past dawn forthe hammering of the armourers. My idiot of a camp prefect set their new forges up right next door to the transit barracks.’
Marcus told him the story of their day, getting a smile for his impression of Morban’s indignation on first seeing the Hamians.
‘… and then ten miles later he’s already trying to talk his way into my new chosen man’s purse.’
Equitius nodded sagely.
‘That sounds like the Morban I recall. How do you rate their chosen man?’
Marcus pulled a face.
‘He’s disappointed with his demotion, I’d say, but he’s hiding it well enough. Almost inscrutably, in fact.’
‘He’s a politician, then?’
The younger man shook his head slowly.
‘No, I’d say he’s something better than that. Call it maturity, or call it simple acceptance, he’ll serve happily enough until the time comes to take his position back.’
‘When you reclaim your Tungrians from the Second cohort?’
‘Something like that.’
Equitius raised an eyebrow, calling for his clerk again.
‘Ah, Quintus, I’d like any information we have on the Second Tungrian cohort’s new prefect, straight away please.’
The clerk saluted and left the room.
‘One of the privileges of senior command, access to rather more information than I’m used to. Another cup of wine?’
The clerk returned five minutes later with a record scroll.
‘Updated only today, sir. Prefect Furius has joined the Tungrians from the German frontier, from the First
Minervia
to be precise.’
‘I see. Anything else?’
‘No, sir, just the bare facts of his previous service. A spell with Twelfth
Thunderbolt
in Moesia some years ago, more recently six months with First
Minervia
, then over the sea to join us.’
‘Thank you, Quintus, that will be all.’
The clerk withdrew, and the legatus raised an eyebrow.
‘What my clerk is far too careful to say, at least in front of aman he doesn’t know, is that serving six months with a legion before being pushed off into auxiliary service is something of a kick in the teeth for a gentleman. It certainly wouldn’t have been a step for his former commanding officer to have taken lightly, given that Furius appears to have been sufficiently well connected to be favoured with a legion tribunate in the first place. And whether auxiliary or not, cohort commands weren’t growing on trees when I was looking for mine, so he must still have influential friends given that he’s probably been quite a naughty boy. He certainly must have some pull to have snagged a tribune’s posting with First
Minervia
in the first place.’ He gave Marcus a cautionary look. ‘Mark my words, Centurion, the Second Cohort’s new prefect might well have a colourful recent past, so I wouldn’t bet on getting those troops back any time soon, not until both cohorts are in the same place as a sympathetic senior officer. So, let’s get down to it, eh? You’ll be keeping those archers for a while, so what do you need to get them into the field with a half-decent chance of survival?’
3
Later, in the evening’s chill, Marcus left the headquarters and walked slowly through the flickering torchlight to the hospital. The soldier on guard duty saluted at the sight of his cross-crested helmet, and the young Roman returned the salute distractedly. Inside the building he paused for a long moment in a darkened corridor, lost in thought. Legatus Equitius had broached the subject of Felicia Clodia Drusilla with diplomatic care, mentioning as if in passing that the doctor, kept busier than ever she had been caring for a single cohort’s medical needs now that she had several thousand men to look after, might appreciate a visit from an old friend.
‘The legion’s lucky that she was on hand to step in when her predecessor got himself killed on the road from the Yew Grove fortress. Luckier still that her father took the trouble to impart his surgical skills to her rather than abandoning her
Marcus told him the story of their day, getting a smile for his impression of Morban’s indignation on first seeing the Hamians.
‘… and then ten miles later he’s already trying to talk his way into my new chosen man’s purse.’
Equitius nodded sagely.
‘That sounds like the Morban I recall. How do you rate their chosen man?’
Marcus pulled a face.
‘He’s disappointed with his demotion, I’d say, but he’s hiding it well enough. Almost inscrutably, in fact.’
‘He’s a politician, then?’
The younger man shook his head slowly.
‘No, I’d say he’s something better than that. Call it maturity, or call it simple acceptance, he’ll serve happily enough until the time comes to take his position back.’
‘When you reclaim your Tungrians from the Second cohort?’
‘Something like that.’
Equitius raised an eyebrow, calling for his clerk again.
‘Ah, Quintus, I’d like any information we have on the Second Tungrian cohort’s new prefect, straight away please.’
The clerk saluted and left the room.
‘One of the privileges of senior command, access to rather more information than I’m used to. Another cup of wine?’
The clerk returned five minutes later with a record scroll.
‘Updated only today, sir. Prefect Furius has joined the Tungrians from the German frontier, from the First
Minervia
to be precise.’
‘I see. Anything else?’
‘No, sir, just the bare facts of his previous service. A spell with Twelfth
Thunderbolt
in Moesia some years ago, more recently six months with First
Minervia
, then over the sea to join us.’
‘Thank you, Quintus, that will be all.’
The clerk withdrew, and the legatus raised an eyebrow.
‘What my clerk is far too careful to say, at least in front of aman he doesn’t know, is that serving six months with a legion before being pushed off into auxiliary service is something of a kick in the teeth for a gentleman. It certainly wouldn’t have been a step for his former commanding officer to have taken lightly, given that Furius appears to have been sufficiently well connected to be favoured with a legion tribunate in the first place. And whether auxiliary or not, cohort commands weren’t growing on trees when I was looking for mine, so he must still have influential friends given that he’s probably been quite a naughty boy. He certainly must have some pull to have snagged a tribune’s posting with First
Minervia
in the first place.’ He gave Marcus a cautionary look. ‘Mark my words, Centurion, the Second Cohort’s new prefect might well have a colourful recent past, so I wouldn’t bet on getting those troops back any time soon, not until both cohorts are in the same place as a sympathetic senior officer. So, let’s get down to it, eh? You’ll be keeping those archers for a while, so what do you need to get them into the field with a half-decent chance of survival?’
3
Later, in the evening’s chill, Marcus left the headquarters and walked slowly through the flickering torchlight to the hospital. The soldier on guard duty saluted at the sight of his cross-crested helmet, and the young Roman returned the salute distractedly. Inside the building he paused for a long moment in a darkened corridor, lost in thought. Legatus Equitius had broached the subject of Felicia Clodia Drusilla with diplomatic care, mentioning as if in passing that the doctor, kept busier than ever she had been caring for a single cohort’s medical needs now that she had several thousand men to look after, might appreciate a visit from an old friend.
‘The legion’s lucky that she was on hand to step in when her predecessor got himself killed on the road from the Yew Grove fortress. Luckier still that her father took the trouble to impart his surgical skills to her rather than abandoning her
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