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

'What about the others?' asked Cato. 'Are some of the officers still claiming to be excused duties?'

Macro nodded sourly. 'When I told 'em to join the men this morning, they refused. I gave them the order, and at once that fat git, Aescher, went straight to Aurelius and asked that he and the others be excused.' Macro discreetly pointed out the officers sitting in the shade of a small shrine at the far end of the parade ground. 'They came straight back with their permission in writing.'

A slave stood to one side cooling them with a large fan made from woven palm leaves while some women from the camp followers sat on their laps and laughed playfully as the officers fondled them. Macro sniffed. 'Smug bastards.'

'Quite,' Cato agreed. 'It does the men no good to see their officers sitting it out. And that includes us. I think we need to set an example, Macro.'

'What did you have in mind, sir?'

'Have all the officers issued marching kit tomorrow morning, whether they are excused from drilling or not. You and me included. And also, find Hamedes and have him join us.'

'Hamedes?' Macro smiled. 'I haven't seen him for days. Bloody little drill dodger.'

'He asked me for permission to visit the local temples. He says he knows some of the priests here and is looking for a position once the campaign is over.'

'And he's doing this while on the payroll as a scout, I take it.'

'Naturally.'

'Then he'll have to earn his pay. I'll march him on to the parade ground myself tomorrow morning.' Macro rubbed his hands at the prospect. 'What kind of drill did you have in mind?'

'A route march down the Nile for the First Cohort. We'll have the legion's senior officers, and Hamedes, at the head of the column where the men can see us, and be sure to let the drill instructors know that the officers are not to be given any slack.'

Macro stared at him with an amused expression. 'What do you hope to achieve?'

'Think of it as an experiment in winnowing. Let's see if we can separate the chaff from the men.' Cato folded his arms and turned his attention back to the men of the cohort again. 'What about the other cohorts?'

'A similar picture. The cohorts led by good officers will be ready as soon as they've had a few more days of hard drilling. The problem units are the Seventh and Ninth Cohorts. They're commanded by cronies of Aurelius.'

'Then add them to tomorrow's route march. The other cohorts can be exercised over the following days.'

'Yes, sir.' Macro grinned briefly. 'What about the auxiliary units?'

While Macro had been put in charge of drilling the legion, Aurelius had ordered him to leave the drilling of the auxiliary cohorts to their prefects. Cato still had oversight of the process. He took a weary breath.

'Both of the infantry cohorts are in fair shape. Their prefects are looking for a chance to prove themselves and win advancement. So they've kept their men on their toes. The Syrian mounted cohort is first class. They know how to look after their horses and they manoeuvre well. The Alexandrian mounted cohort is a different matter. They have something of a superior attitude and their prefect seems to think they are the direct descendants of Alexander's Companion Cavalry. They drink hard and the discipline is a little sloppy. No question of their elan though. I just hope that they last the distance when the army marches. Then they'll have a chance to live up to their self-regard.'

'Or they'll discover that they're a bunch of gutless worms and bolt from the battlefield.'

Cato shrugged uncomfortably. Both men were silent for a moment before Macro continued. 'Any luck with the new legate on the planning front?'

'No. He still refuses to consult me. I've asked him when he intends to lead the army out of Diospolis Magna and he just says we will take the field when the situation is propitious.'

'Propitious?' Macro mused.

'He refused to clarify when I asked him. The thing is, he had better give the order soon, or the enemy will have free run of all the province between here and the cataract. They've already advanced on Ombos. The last report from the garrison there was that the Nubians were about to place them under siege. Even then, Aurelius refused to move.'

'Sounds like our glory-hunting commander is developing cold feet.'

'Perhaps.' Cato did not feel comfortable criticising his commander. In truth he had begun to discover the vulnerability of his position over the last few days. His promotion had elevated him to a position where he should share some responsibility in determining the course of a campaign. Before the suppression of the revolt on Crete, he and Macro had been junior enough simply to be told where to go and who to fight. The strategy was largely determined by other men of higher rank, and officers like Macro and Cato were left to execute their orders. Now, Cato had both rank and experience of command, yet he was still regarded as too fresh-faced or, worse, regarded as too ambitious. How else could someone of his years have advanced to his rank without being ruthless in his ambition? It was a question that those who perceived him as a rival would ask in order to justify their lack of cooperation. It was a double-edged burden, Cato decided, especially as he had never actively pursued elevation to his present rank. It had been conferred on him by those who had valued his achievements in the past. The envy of men like Aurelius would prevent him from providing the best service he could to Rome, and at the same time they would willingly do him down to maintain their own prestige.

With the death of Candidus, Aurelius was the most powerful man along the Nile south of Memphis. If Aurelius was against him then the only course through which he might pursue a complaint was through Governor Petronius in Alexandria. Cato had no patrons in the province. His nearest friend with any influence was Senator Sempronius in Crete – assuming Sempronius had not already relinquished his temporary control of the island and was on his way back to Rome. Cato was on his own, he realised. If he was to have any influence over the direction of the campaign, then he must find a way of working round Aurelius's prejudices towards him. Maybe this was the real test of those promoted to high rank. No longer was he being judged purely on the basis of his talent as an instrument of war. The time had come when political skills were every bit as vital.

'Ah, my chief training officer!' Aurelius greeted Cato as the latter approached his desk at the end of the pool. Torches flickered in brackets attached to the columns and lit up the space with a golden hue. Outside, the sun had just set and the red sky reflected on the surface of the water. Cato hoped that it was not an ill omen for the campaign as he stood erect in front of the legate's desk.

'What can I do for you, Tribune?' Aurelius leaned back in his chair.

'It concerns a training matter, sir. If you recall, you said that I would have complete authority in matters relating to preparing the men for the coming campaign.'

'Yes, I did,' Aurelius replied warily. 'Subject to my ultimate approval, naturally.'

'Of course, sir.'

'Well? How are things proceeding?'

'The soldiers are steadily improving and given time they will be in good shape once the campaign begins. It would help to know when you intend the army to march, sir.'

'Of course.' Aurelius nodded, and gestured towards the sheets of papyrus on his desk. 'As you can see, the need to prepare the men is not the only consideration affecting my decision. There are conflicting reports on the location of the enemy. Rumours are rife. Some say that Prince Talmis is no more than fifty miles away. Others say that he is still camped outside Ombos, besieging the garrison there. The overall picture is very uncertain, Tribune.'