Athene's Prophecy (Gaius Claudius Scaevola Trilogy) (36 page)

The recruit said nothing.

"You two," he ordered the others, "no matter what happens, you will stay facing forwards towards the enemy as if you were fighting. You! Prove it! Defend your line!"

"What?"

Just as the young man spoke, Gaius rushed forward, then paused as the young man swung. As the swing passed and the soldier on his left gave a startled jerk to one side. Gaius then leaped forward and crashed his shield into the young man, who was now slightly off balance, then with considerable force drove the wooden sword into the young man's diaphragm. As the young man collapsed backwards onto the ground and was struggling to breathe, Gaius pushed his boot into the man's stomach to keep him down, then he stepped across and lightly back-stabbed the man on his left, then, after again using the fallen man as a launching pad, back-stabbed the other.

"You," Gaius explained to the man on the ground, "are dead. The men on each side of you, who were relying on you to hold the line and had to face forward because that's where the enemy are, are also dead. Thanks to your antics, the enemy have started to punch a hole in the line, and unless your Centurion does something very quickly, half your century'll be dead in a matter of minutes. You have something to say?"

The young man said nothing, as he lay gasping in the dust. The Centurion was watching with a smile, partly of disbelief, partly of relief, and partly at the face of the young man lying on the ground, still under the boot of the Tribune.

"You men!" Gaius addressed the other trainees. "You will fight battles exactly as you carry out these drills, and you will drill as you carry out real battles. You may not care whether you live, but the man beside you may. Also, you may fight under me, and I most certainly do care whether I live, so you will learn discipline, and you will learn your drills so you do them in your sleep. When the drills are automatic, you win in battle. Centurion," he said more quietly, but loudly enough that most could hear. "These men look far too soft. The arms need strengthening, so I suggest rock drill after this."

"Yes sir!" the Centurion replied. The Centurion was clearly surprised. Under the current Legate, training was reasonably light, and nobody bothered to check. Here was the youngest Tribune already pushing some of the more rigorous aspects of training. This was unexpected but if that was what was wanted, it was the Centurion's job to provide it.

"Ensure they have plenty of water and leave it until later in the afternoon," Gaius continued. "It's to strengthen, not punish, although of course that comment should not prevent your exercising certain options if you are having trouble with them."

And so, later in the afternoon, only the new recruits associated with the first cohort were marching around the parade ground carrying packs stuffed with rocks high above their heads.

Vibius noted this training, and approached Gaius.

"You think that's necessary?" he asked curiously.

"I'll tell you what," Gaius replied. "Why don't we have a contest in six weeks? Your recruits against mine?"

Vibius accepted, then Vitellius heard about it, and ordered the contest across all cohorts. Although the first cohort had twice the number of soldiers, it had fewer new recruits, as it had the right to acquire more experienced soldiers from other cohorts or other legions.

"And so," Gaius informed the recruits, "you will have to train even harder to do even more work!"

After two weeks of quite exhausting drills, the recruits of the first still had to dig their trenches, and pile the rock and dirt above it as the Roman soldier did every day on march. When they were finished, they were lined up on the top of their mound, and given practice swords and shields. Then, up came an equal number of volunteer veterans that Gaius had arranged. They were similarly armed, and with broad grins they lined up before the recruits.

"You are to defend your line," Gaius said to the recruits, "while the others try to dislodge you. The veterans will advance, now."

The shields of the veterans closed up, and they began to march forward, then up the slope. The recruits tried to defend, but in no time were pushed back, and within ten seconds all but two at the end of the line were lying in their own trench, with the veterans showering them with dirt.

"Now you know what someone fighting against the legion is up against," Gaius smiled, as he looked down at the spluttering recruits. "You had height, and height should give you an advantage, so strengthen up! I'm sure the Centurion will find ways to accomplish that." He paused, then added, "I noticed a couple of you felt the cane for throwing dirt at each other. Consider yourself lucky. You!" he pointed at one recruit who had been something of a bully, "initiated it, and the Centurion can't have noticed. In fact I've noticed a couple of times you seem to like to get the others into trouble, when you think nobody'll notice. Unlucky for you! Three weeks of latrine duties, on top of whatever the Centurion decides is appropriate!" That, Gaius knew, would hurt. The Centurion, having had a shortcoming of his pointed out publicly, would lay into that recruit to ensure that whatever else, that recruit would not be laughing behind his back, and to ensure that the Tribune did not think he was being soft.

"Now, you sorry lot," he continued, as a couple of recruits struggled to their feet, "there's a contest coming, and since I'm betting on you lot, you'd better win. And you start by cooperating, acting like a team. There were two of you that offered some resistance, but where were they? Down the end of the line where it didn't matter. Get your strongest men into play in the centre of the line, and help each other. Let's see what happens in a week."

A week later, there was an improvement. The veterans eventually won, mainly by peeling back the left of the line, but as the exercises progressed it took an increasing amount of time.

"Now," Gaius offered, after yet another time when the recruits were pushed into their trench, "I don't want to hear blame. The men at the left end folded, eventually, but they're the lightest you have. The veterans started to concentrate there, and eventually they got through. The question is, what were the rest of you doing? I'll tell you what. You were holding, so you relaxed a bit. I don't want to see any of that. If you're holding while the enemy is pushing somewhere else, that's the time for you to push that much harder. If the enemy thinks he's making progress elsewhere, he usually doesn't like to look around and see the centre, say, folding. You think you've done your bit, then you're wrong. You've done your bit when your century grinds the opposition into the dirt, and not a second earlier. For the next exercise, I'll give you a couple of experienced
Optios
to get you more organized."

For the next exercise Gaius slightly increased the number of veterans, and eventually they won again. But it was becoming harder, and Gaius was pleased to see that the recruits seemed determined to win. Eventually he decided enough was enough, and he returned to the original number of veterans. After something of a struggle, the veteran's right folded when one man slipped, and they were peeled back, to great cheering.

"A little better," Gaius said gruffly. "There's beer, wine and meat just for you and the veterans down to the left of the Mess. It's on me, and if anyone else tries to take it, you have my permission to take them away and throw them in the river."

Thus the recruits were rewarded, and anyone who tried to take that reward had to face some of the hardest veterans in the legion. The veterans got free drink, thanks to these recruits, and the recruits suddenly found they had unexpected drinking companions. The recruits were well on the way to being accepted.

* * *

Improving relations with Vibius seemed easier said than done. Gaius invited his Legate, the Tribunes and some other civilians of standing to an evening social get-together, where he introduced the guests to beer made by the Egyptian recipe.

The evening got off to a bad start with the Legate deciding the beer was far too weak, so he began drinking large volumes. Shortly later, he was seen head down, over a ditch, vomiting. After that, he was not seen again. The rich merchants, fortunately, did not see this episode, and were reasonably impressed with the drink, and many could see a number of sales prospects, but Vibius decided that Gaius was being cheap and did not wish to spend on wine for mere equestrians.

Then Gaius was approached by some merchants; they wished to buy the recipe. No need, Gaius offered, as long as they purchased some ingredients from his family interests, and they kept records and paid him a quadrans for every two denarii of sales. The merchants thought about this last point, then they agreed quickly.

"Keep good records," Gaius grinned at them. He knew fine well they had no intention of so doing. "If you don't, I'll let Little Boots know you're cheating him of his tax revenues."

The merchants stared at him, and suddenly realized who had the power in this deal. The man with a legion behind him.

"The other way of looking at it," Gaius continued, "is that I know Little Boots'll be only too pleased to see that good tax-payers have their activities protected."

This had a good effect. It could never hurt to have a man with a legion on their side.

"That wretched Claudius!" Vibius muttered to anyone who would listen. "He's just using the legion for his own ends!"

This, however, was not a particularly telling comment. The general reaction was, so what? Julius Caesar had even conquered Gaul for no better reason than to get enough loot to fulfil his own political ambition. The real question was, when pushed, would this new Tribune be of any use in the field.

* * *

The contest was simple. Recruits had to dig their trench to the full depth and build their ramparts, and when this was done to the satisfaction of a neutral Centurion they would take shield and practice sword and defend their rampart. The ramparts were six paces apart, with the trenches behind, and when the first troops were lined up the centurion would count to one hundred. If the opposition were not ready at that point, the recruits could advance and take what advantage they could. The objective was to throw the opponents back into their trench. If a recruit fell to the ground, or received a good sword thrust to the body, he was required to take no further part in the contest.

Many of the legionnaires elected to watch, and there were many early groans as cohorts were eliminated. Then the recruits from the first took part in their first contest. They eliminated their opposition easily: the opposition were still completing their trench and the first recruits ambled up and shovelled the dirt in faster than the others could get it out, effectively 'burying' their opponents. The recruits from the third also had an easy win, and it soon became clear that Vibius had made a big effort not to lose.

The final, when it arose, was a little one-sided. Although the first cohort was twice as big, it had only half the recruits that the third had, and there was a greater disadvantage in as much as the recruits to the third were mainly of farming stock, and were naturally stronger. When the recruits from the first lined up, they charged the third, but flung themselves at the third's left flank. They made an initial impact, but the recruits from the third slid around the rear of their own men to support them, and eventually by attrition they had to prevail. The problem for the recruits from the first was that as some took the "fatal" sword thrust, their numbers fell, and even if they took equal number of their opponents, the odds rapidly became worse.

At the finish, Gaius congratulated Vibius, and handed Vibius the trophy, which was a cask of wine for the winning recruits. At first Vibius was reluctant to accept, on the grounds that the victory was hollow because his men outnumbered the first.

"Not at all," Gaius shrugged. "Everyone knew the rules, and your recruits had really trained well. They deserve it, although of course if they feel that way, they could always invite the losers to help drink it."

Vibius accepted that suggestion, and also accepted Gaius' invitation to a dinner. This time, Gaius thought, he should put Timothy's gastronomic abilities to better use.

Chapter 30

"A copy of orders from Governor Vitellius, sir."

Gaius looked at the Centurion, and took the note. "That's odd," he muttered. "These should have come through the
Legatus
."

"That's where the Governor sent them first," the Centurion nodded, then he stared at Gaius. He paused and seemed to take a view. "The Governor wishes to know why you haven't set out already, before the trail gets too cold."

"This's the first I've seen of these orders," Gaius protested.

"I think the Governor realizes that sir," the Centurion, offered. He was obviously unsure of what to say next and was uncomfortable in having to face this Tribune.

"Inform the Governor that I have only received these orders as of now," Gaius said, more firmly, "and further, inform the Governor that the first cohort and some cavalry will set out as soon as supplies are secured. That should take about three hours."

"Yes, sir," the Centurion nodded, then seemed to come to a decision as he added, "I think the Governor knows why you haven't received these orders."

"I think you do too," Gaius grinned at the Centurion.

"I think I do too," the Centurion nodded, then saluted, and left.

The three hours were frantic, but Gaius was determined to get started. His Centurions accepted the problem, and, strangely, so did the men. There was, after all, the prospect of action, and additionally, they had a Tribune who wished to get started, and a Tribune who had begun to earn some respect. Such a Tribune had to be supported. So it was within the three hours that the sounds could be heard of the first cohort marching from the legion's camp. Each of the Centurions ordered a battery of horn signals, none of which had any meaning except to wake up the
Legatus
and hopefully add to his headache.