Eagles at War by Ben Kane Page A

some distance to the south of Aliso, but was still close to the Rhenus.
    Caedicius frowned. ‘What did he say, Marcianus?’
    ‘It seems that a band of Tencteri has been cattle raiding among the Usipetes in the last ten days or so. According to the merchant, they started off on the fringes of the Usipetes’ lands, but they’ve grown bolder. A couple of men were killed during their latest raid, and there’s been talk of retaliatory attacks.’
    Tubero looked confused, so Tullus explained, ‘Cattle rustling is a perennial problem in Germania, tribune. It’s a badge of honour for young warriors to steal beasts from another tribe. In recent years, the chieftains have been quick to step in before things get out of hand, but that doesn’t always work. Sometimes our troops are needed to restore order.’
    Tubero looked like a small child who’d been handed a pastry. He glanced at Caedicius. ‘How far away is this happening?’
    ‘Too great a distance for us to consider investigating without permission,’ said Caedicius. ‘I will advise Varus of this development, and if the governor sees fit, a detachment of troops will be sent to investigate.’
    ‘Perhaps I could lead that unit,’ Tubero suggested.
    ‘Varus will be the man who decides what action will be taken, if any,’ answered Caedicius.
    Disappointment filled Tubero’s eyes again. Tullus felt for him. Officers with initiative were a valuable asset to a legion. ‘If Varus decides to send a patrol out, and you were to petition him for its command, he might grant your request, sir,’ he offered.
    ‘Let us hope so,’ said Tubero. He lifted his cup. ‘Fortuna grant that it is I who is sent to settle the dispute.’
    By the following morning, Tullus was regretting the late night he’d had. True to form, Caedicius had insisted that they keep drinking after the food had been cleared away. Marcianus, a pisshead of the first order, had been happy to obey, and Tubero had still been keen to impress, so Tullus’ protests had been in vain. His memory of the end of proceedings was hazy, but he was certain that the third watch had sounded as he fell into bed. The dawn trumpet, which sounded what seemed like moments later, had been most unwelcome.
    Dry-mouthed and sweating, he’d gone straight to the baths and jumped into the cold pool. After a short spell, he had moved to the hot room, and then back to the frigidarium . Somewhat revived, he had forced down a few mouthfuls of water and pulled on his armour before inspecting the cohort. Prompted by Fenestela and the other centurions, it had already formed up in the wide space between the walls and the barracks, ready to march back to Vetera. As he stalked the formation, three centuries wide and two deep, Tullus noted that some men looked worse for wear, but most seemed fit and ready. Given his own state, he decided to say nothing. The soldiers could be assessed as they marched. As long as everyone kept up, he could overlook a few hangovers.
    It was some consolation that when Tubero appeared – late – he was red-eyed and pale-faced. Tullus affected not to notice.
    Caedicius came to bid them farewell. To Tullus’ chagrin, he looked as spry as a man half his age who hadn’t touched a drop. ‘I’ll see you in the summer,’ he declared. ‘May the gods guide all of our paths until then. Good luck, tribune.’
    Tubero’s response was more scowl than smile. ‘Thank you, sir.’
    ‘Ready, sir?’ asked Tullus of Tubero.
    There was a grim nod.
    ‘You have Caedicius’ letters for Varus?’
    ‘My staff officer has them.’
    ‘Very good, sir. With your permission, then?’
    A weak gesture from Tubero indicated that he should continue.
    Satisfaction filled Tullus. He’ll be as quiet as a mouse on the way back, he thought. He gave the order to turn about face, and to move out in turn after the tribune had led off. Tubero and his followers rode past the front ranks of the cohort, towards the gate. In neat ranks, the