The Legion - Scarrow Simon (электронная книга .txt) 📗

'Prefect Quintus Licinius Cato and Centurion Macro reporting for duty with the Twenty-Second,' said Cato and nodded at Hamedes. 'This is our scout.'

'Ah, my apologies, sir.' The optio stiffened to attention. 'You want the priests' quarters, sir.' The optio turned and pointed to the east of the temple complex. 'Over there. I'll have one of my men guide you.'

Cato nodded as he cast an eye over the optio and his men. Most were dark-skinned, like the natives. A few had the lighter skins of the Greeks or Romans. 'Very well.'

Shortly after, they climbed the ramp to the ceremonial landing stage and the vista inside the temple complex opened up. Thousands of men were camped inside the wall, their tents aligned in neat rows stretching out across the compound. In the distance, towards the rear of the complex, lay the stables where the horses of the auxiliary cohorts, and the four squadrons of legionary cavalry, stood sheltered from the sun beneath shades made from palm fronds. A short distance outside the walls, between the temple complex and the city, lay the sprawl of tents belonging to the camp followers. This was where the soldiers could find drink, trinkets and comfort in the arms of women from the numerous companies of prostitutes run by seedy Greek merchants.

'Impressive.' Hamedes nodded. 'I have never seen such a powerful army. The Nubians would tremble at such a sight. I could not guess at the number.'

'The number is less impressive than you might think,' Macro replied. 'A legion has over five thousand men on its roll at full strength. But then, they never are at full strength. The auxiliary units amount to perhaps three thousand men. At best Candidus has eight thousand men to counter the Nubians.'

'But surely, sir, the Roman soldiers are the best in the world? How else could they have won such an empire?'

'There are soldiers and there are soldiers,' Cato responded quietly.

The legionary assigned to escort them to headquarters led them down a short avenue of Sphinxes and through the gates of the first set of pylons, across a courtyard and between two large statues into a hall filled with vast columns. At the far end they turned right towards another set of pylons stretching to the south. The courtyards here were packed with supply carts and thousands of sacks of grain to supply the army once they marched south to do battle with the Nubians. For Hamedes the army's preparations for war were something of a novelty and he kept glancing about him with insatiable curiosity.

'Hey,' Macro called to the legionary. 'You had any word on the enemy?'

The man glanced back and shook his head. 'Nothing for days, sir. Last I heard was that their mounted troops had been seen as far north as Ombos.'

'Where's that?'

'A hundred or so miles upriver.'

Macro turned to Cato. 'Not exactly blazing a path through the underbelly of the province, are they? And Candidus isn't exactly rushing to drive them back either.'

Cato shrugged. 'I'm sure the legate has his reasons.'

'I'd be interested in hearing them.'

They strode down through the last set of pylons, and saw another avenue of Sphinxes heading towards the temple of Amun, over a mile away. A short distance from the avenue was a large low building, surrounded by another mud-brick wall. A section of legionaries stood guard at the gate.

'This way, sir.' Their guide gestured to Cato. The optio in command of the gate raised a hand as they approached.

'Halt! State your business.'

'Officers joining the legion,' the legionary explained and stood aside as Cato reached inside his tunic and took out his orders and handed them over for the optio to inspect. He ran his eyes over the papyrus scroll and then saluted. 'Welcome to the Jackals, sir.'

'Jackals?'

The optio turned and pointed at the standard rising up above the gate leading into the priests' quarters. Above the legion's number, a depiction of a canine head in gold stood out against the red cloth of the fall. Cato and Macro briefly examined the standard and exchanged a knowing glance: there wasn't a single battle honour adorning the staff.

'I expect you'll want to be entered on to the roll, sir.'

Cato nodded. 'But first I wish to see the legate.'

'He's not here, sir. You'll have to see the camp prefect instead. Caius Aurelius.'

'Where is the legate?'

'He left the army several days ago, sir. I heard he was touring the forts along the Nile to make sure they were adequately prepared to hold out against the Nubians.'

'When is he due back?'

'Can't say, sir. Best ask the camp prefect.'

'Where do I find him?'

'Through the gates and straight on, sir. Admin offices are just beyond the pool.'

'Pool?' Macro smiled as they strode through the gates. 'Sounds like a cushy posting.'

In stark contrast to the bland exterior of the wall running round the priests' quarters, the interior afforded comfort in some style at first glance. Palm trees shaded the paved paths that surrounded the buildings. Flower beds were watered by pipes that ran through the gardens. Few plants remained, however, and those that did were sadly neglected and their leaves were covered in a layer of fine dust. The path from the entrance led through a double line of columns and opened out on to a tiled courtyard surrounded by airy cells. A large awning covered the courtyard and in its shade the staff of the headquarters had set up their trestle tables. The clerks were busy cleaning their pens and putting aside their work as they looked forward to the evening meal. On the far side of the courtyard was another line of columns and beyond they could see the mirror gleam of water. The cells of the second courtyard were given over to the senior officers of the army and cots had been set up at the back of each cell while a desk stood at the front. Several officers were still hard at work and Cato asked a passing orderly for the camp prefect.

'Over there, sir. Far end of the pool.' He pointed out a slight man with dark, tightly curled hair, hunched over a large desk as he examined a document. Cato led the small party round the shallow pool. As he approached the cell, the camp prefect glanced up. He looked tired and anxious.

'Yes?'

'Prefect Cato, sir. I've been sent from Alexandria to take up the senior tribune's vacancy. My orders.' He handed the document over. 'This is Centurion Macro, assigned to the legion.'

'And him?' He nodded at Hamedes.

'Our scout, sir.'

Aurelius quickly glanced at the orders and pushed them to one side. 'It's good to have you with us. Even though we had a junior tribune join us yesterday we're still short of the full complement of officers, particularly in the First Cohort. Our best officers can be called on to act as magistrates right across the province. Two of our centurions were serving south of Ombos and we've had no word from them. The same goes for the first spear. He was overseeing the construction of a new fort at Pselchis. Frankly, I fear the worst.'

'Sorry to hear it, sir,' said Macro.

'Well, perhaps no news is good news,' Aurelius replied unconvincingly. 'In the meantime, Prefect Cato, you're acting senior tribune. Centurion Macro gets command of the First Century.' He tapped the scrolls. 'You come highly recommended, and we need experienced officers. As you might know, it's a while since the entire legion saw active service. We've been carrying out policing action most of the time. Still, the opposition's little more than a mob of mounted brigands. That's what we're told, anyway.'

As the man spoke, in his high voice with its sing-song cadence and rhythm, Cato's earlier fears about the combat readiness of the legion seemed to be justified. Aurelius was clearly a man far more at home wielding a stylus than a gladius. Cato could only hope that the legate had wider military experience.