the capacity in which you work, Tiberius Rufius, assessing the Wall units’ readiness and reporting on the situation beyond the frontier to Northern Command. Don’t assume that everyone this side of the Wall is simple minded enough to mistake you for a trader. You should beware your secret reaching the wrong ears on the far side.’
He paced away to stare out of the room’s open window, his hair ruffled by the fresh breeze.
‘Very well, I’ll accept your version of these unfortunate events, despite the fact I don’t trust a single word. I’ll also try to accept Gaius Calidius Sollemnis’s request of me, since I do trust his judgement, and since I still owe him a very substantial debt of gratitude. As for the money he sent you to offer … I’ll use that to buy my men some decent equipment, if those incompetents over at Noisy Valley still have anything worth bribing out of their stores. Quite how I am to discharge this responsibility is at the moment, however, beyond me …’
He sat down behind his desk, surrendering to thought, idly pulling at his beard again. Rufius craned his head around, giving Marcus another warning stare of instruction to remain silent. At length the prefect spoke again, his sharp eyes boring into Marcus’s.
‘I presume that you are an educated young man?’
‘Yes, Prefect.’
‘And I presume that you speak little or none of the local language?’
‘Very little, Prefect.’
‘What weapons training have you received?’
‘Ten years’ training with the sword and general skill at arms, six years’ horsemanship, and seven months’ as a praetorian centurion, Prefect.’
The officer got out of his chair again and walked round the desk to look yet more closely into Marcus’s eyes.
‘Young man, while I respect the Guard’s renowned abilities on the battlefield, I’m not stupid enough to suppose that you actually learnt any of the art of modern warfare during your time in their ranks. I hear that it is the practice these days for a certain number of the sons of the aristocracy to be bought positions as praetorian officers each year. I hear that they serve with the Guard for a period, usually in ceremonial roles, and are shepherded at all times by experienced subordinates. Shepherded, young man, to ensure that they do nothing to degrade their unit’s fighting capabilities.’
Marcus winced inwardly at the memory of his clashes with his former chosen man Apicius, who he had often accused of being too harsh a disciplinarian.
‘In return they earn the right to enter the army as senior centurions, usually over the heads of men with much greater experience and ability, and can then return to Rome after a short period of service. Lucrative positions are open to such men, in the urban vigiles or even as praetorian tribunes. Often, it is said, such young men do more harm than good in their first years of command, and keep more capable men out of the positions they have earned by their efforts and successes.
‘To be blunt, Marcus Tribulus Corvus – and trust me, I really don’t want to know your true name – you have been trained to perform the tasks of a ceremonial officer. You know how to ensure that your men look smart on parade; you know the etiquette to be observed on palace duty. Doubtless you know how to address the emperor’s favourite mistress should you chance upon her being serviced by a gladiator during your rounds of the palace. I doubt very much, however, that you have the first idea as to the requirements of an officer on active service. Hmm?’
To Rufius’s relief, Marcus kept his eyes firmly fixed on the wall in front of him, and said nothing.
‘Do you really want to make the attempt to gain a centurion’s rank in this unit? Do you want it badly enough to accept any terms I place upon allowing you to convince my First Spear to accept your candidature?’
Marcus hesitated for a moment, sought Rufius’s eye and, receiving a nod from his friend, took a breath
He paced away to stare out of the room’s open window, his hair ruffled by the fresh breeze.
‘Very well, I’ll accept your version of these unfortunate events, despite the fact I don’t trust a single word. I’ll also try to accept Gaius Calidius Sollemnis’s request of me, since I do trust his judgement, and since I still owe him a very substantial debt of gratitude. As for the money he sent you to offer … I’ll use that to buy my men some decent equipment, if those incompetents over at Noisy Valley still have anything worth bribing out of their stores. Quite how I am to discharge this responsibility is at the moment, however, beyond me …’
He sat down behind his desk, surrendering to thought, idly pulling at his beard again. Rufius craned his head around, giving Marcus another warning stare of instruction to remain silent. At length the prefect spoke again, his sharp eyes boring into Marcus’s.
‘I presume that you are an educated young man?’
‘Yes, Prefect.’
‘And I presume that you speak little or none of the local language?’
‘Very little, Prefect.’
‘What weapons training have you received?’
‘Ten years’ training with the sword and general skill at arms, six years’ horsemanship, and seven months’ as a praetorian centurion, Prefect.’
The officer got out of his chair again and walked round the desk to look yet more closely into Marcus’s eyes.
‘Young man, while I respect the Guard’s renowned abilities on the battlefield, I’m not stupid enough to suppose that you actually learnt any of the art of modern warfare during your time in their ranks. I hear that it is the practice these days for a certain number of the sons of the aristocracy to be bought positions as praetorian officers each year. I hear that they serve with the Guard for a period, usually in ceremonial roles, and are shepherded at all times by experienced subordinates. Shepherded, young man, to ensure that they do nothing to degrade their unit’s fighting capabilities.’
Marcus winced inwardly at the memory of his clashes with his former chosen man Apicius, who he had often accused of being too harsh a disciplinarian.
‘In return they earn the right to enter the army as senior centurions, usually over the heads of men with much greater experience and ability, and can then return to Rome after a short period of service. Lucrative positions are open to such men, in the urban vigiles or even as praetorian tribunes. Often, it is said, such young men do more harm than good in their first years of command, and keep more capable men out of the positions they have earned by their efforts and successes.
‘To be blunt, Marcus Tribulus Corvus – and trust me, I really don’t want to know your true name – you have been trained to perform the tasks of a ceremonial officer. You know how to ensure that your men look smart on parade; you know the etiquette to be observed on palace duty. Doubtless you know how to address the emperor’s favourite mistress should you chance upon her being serviced by a gladiator during your rounds of the palace. I doubt very much, however, that you have the first idea as to the requirements of an officer on active service. Hmm?’
To Rufius’s relief, Marcus kept his eyes firmly fixed on the wall in front of him, and said nothing.
‘Do you really want to make the attempt to gain a centurion’s rank in this unit? Do you want it badly enough to accept any terms I place upon allowing you to convince my First Spear to accept your candidature?’
Marcus hesitated for a moment, sought Rufius’s eye and, receiving a nod from his friend, took a breath
Similar Books
