Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 00.5] Ulpius Felix- Warrior of Rome (7 page)

“If you want my advice don’t promote until you have seen your men in battle.  Just use the chosen man principle.” He shrugged, “It works.”

“Thank you that is good advice and it puts my decision off for a while.”

“I have been in this army for almost twenty five years; you pick up little tricks over that time. Anyway is there anything else that you need?”

“Do you have a blacksmith we could use? We have some standards but we didn’t have enough time to finish them.”

“Help yourself and if you would like to join me tonight I can promise you better fare than you are used to.”

Although Marius did not want to leave his men he realised that the Camp Prefect had information which could be useful.  Forewarned was forearmed.  “I would be delighted.”

Publius met the Prefect at the gate. “I have found the uniforms.  I thought that I would use my turma to bring them to the camp.  The Quartermaster says we can borrow some carts.”

“Good you stay here and I will send them along with your chosen man.”

The camp was already taking shape for they were used to it. After the turma had been sent into the fortress Marius summoned Flavius and Cava. “The Camp Prefect says that we can use the smithy in the fortress but before we let your men go in I need your opinion on something.” Cava wondered why he was there. “We need a vexillarius. How about that Wolf of yours?”

“He is brave enough and he handled himself well in the mountains.  Yes I agree. What do you think Chosen Man?”

Cava was a little dubious for he thought he was a little young for what seemed an important post, to carry the ala standard into battle, but he could not deny the young man the opportunity to better himself.  “He will do a good job sir.  He is a good warrior.”

“Excellent.  Bring him along then.”

Wolf thought he was in trouble when Cava took him to meet the Prefect and he had a terrified look on his face. Marius saw it and smiled.  “Don’t worry trooper, you are not in trouble, in fact just the opposite.  We would like you to become the ala vexillarius.  What do you say to that?  It would of course mean more money and you would be attached to me and my staff.” He shrugged, “At the moment my only staff, but that will change.”

“I am honoured sir but…”

“Come on Wolf, out with it.”

“Well if it is all the same to you I would like to stay with the turma.”

The Prefect looked nonplussed but Cava and Flavius exchanged a knowing look. “I didn’t expect that trooper and of course you don’t need to accept but do you mind explaining to me why.  I am curious.”

“Firstly sir I would love to serve with you but my comrades took an oath to protect the wolf standard and, well I think it is fate that wants me to carry it.  Don’t get me wrong sir.  I would like to be promoted but that will come in time, if I am good enough.”

“A good answer.  Thank you for your honesty.  If you want to go with Cava here you can use the fortress smithy to put some iron on that precious standard of yours.” When they had gone Marius turned to Flavius. “Remarkably mature for one so young.  He will go far will that one. It speaks well of you too Flavius that they would rather stay with you.”

“I’m sure he meant no disrespect sir.”

Marius waved away the apology.  “Don’t worry about me.  I think this is a good thing.  We need to build up loyalty in the ala and this is the first sign that we are heading in the right direction.”

“With that in mind sir, those last recruits, well they are causing trouble. Nothing major but I noticed when we fought the Marcomanni the new ones hung back a little.”

“Yes I know and you are not the only Decurion who has mentioned that.   What we need is another officer so that we could put all the bad apples in one basket.” He shrugged.  “For the moment, just keep an eye on them and try to bring them into the fold as it were.”

Publius did not issue the new arms and armour until the following morning. After talking with the Camp Prefect, Marius had decided to spend an extra day at the fortress to organise his men more effectively.  The comments about Legate Corbulo had worried him and he wanted them to be as prepared as possible. The men were like excited children as they lined up next to the carts which were being used as points of distribution.  Punctilious Publius gave the equipment out piecemeal. Leggings first, then the caligae, followed by the mail shirt and finally the helmet.  While those carts were returned to the fortress he went around each turmae to check that it all fitted and they all had the correct equipment.  Then he gave out the long spatha and scabbard and finally the scuta and javelins. Marius had worried about Publius but he had shown that he was the perfect choice for his role. 

Knowing how excited they were the Prefect allowed a short time for them all to admire each other and to use the polished helmet to try to see what they looked like and then he ordered them to attention.  “You now look a little more like Roman soldiers. Good but you still behave like the Marcomanni.” He knew he was insulting them and it was deliberate.  “We will be joining the army in the next seven days and the General will want a smart looking ala.  You look smart but we need to make you to look like an organised ala.  Each of your turma will be divided up into four turmae. Each of those will have a chosen man.  Your officers will choose them. This will allow us to organise the ala better and when that is done you will all swear an oath to Rome.”

The troopers all looked at each other. An oath was a serious matter and not to be taken lightly. Wolf and his friends were already oath takers and Cava knew it would not be a problem for them but he watched Sura and his band; they seemed a little put out.  Cava would watch time during the ceremony and gauge their true feelings. Flavius beckoned Cava over to him. “I will keep Wolf and his oath takers with me as the first Turma. I think it will be better for them. We need another six to join them. Make them older men. I want you to take Sura and his malcontents as the Second Turma. I know it is asking much but I am sure you will be able to handle them.  That leaves us with two more chosen men to find.  Any idea?”

“Well I would have said Wolf, he is a good lad, but you are probably right and this way we have at least one turma that we can depend on.”

“Don’t depress me.  They will all be dependable.”

Cava looked over at the surly Sura.  “I am not sure about that.”

Wolf was proud that he was in what he thought was the most honourable turma, that commanded by a Roman but he wondered if he would regret his decision to cling on to the standard; he fingered the token given to him by his mother and knew that it was ordained by some spirit of his people.  He was still Pannonian but, increasingly he felt Roman.

When they rode out the next day the Prefect sat astride his horse watching them pass by.  They all looked like Roman soldiers now.  Some of them had balked at losing their old weapons and helmets and Marius knew that somehow they would have secreted them somewhere but it did not matter for they would become more Roman with each step which took them from their homeland. He remembered the Roman official who had explained his new role to him and who had explained their police.  “You see Prefect by taking these new allies away from their homeland we do two things; we eradicate a threat to us and we use that threat to subjugate those who will be our new allies. You are from Rome but many of the legionaries come from other parts of Italy and they were once allies.  It is a system which works.”

He now saw that he had told the men a lie when he said they would only be needed for a year; they had signed on and taken the oath and although they did not know it, they would be in the army for twenty five years. He would need to tell them that at some point but he would wait until they had all been blooded.

Chapter 4

Legate Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo was not a happy man.  He had two legions at his disposal the Fifth Alaudae, known as ‘The Larks’, and the Fifteenth Primigenia but he still did not have either enough men or the right men to subjugate the Chauci and the Frisii.  The terrain did not suit the legions.  He needed more auxiliaries.  The Batavi were a treacherous people who seemed to be able to cross water as though it wasn’t there. Their horsemen and foot soldiers were all accomplished swimmers and crossed the Rhenus with impunity.  He had six auxiliary cohorts but what he needed was more cavalry and he was waiting for the new ala to arrive.  He was not a patient man and, with winter approaching, he knew that, if they did not arrive soon then he would have to wait until the following year to finally conquer Germania Inferior. He wished he was with his friend Aulus Plautius in Britannia. From what he had heard that was a better battlefield than the marshes and forests of this part of the world.

The aide knocked on the door and waited until the Legate said, “Enter.”

Making sure he saluted correctly the immaculately turned out young officer said, “The gate house reports a column of Roman cavalry approaching.”

“Good, about time.  I will go to watch them ride in. That’s how you assess a unit by the way they march!”

As soon as he had seen the huge fortress in the distance, with the camps clustered around it Marius had ordered his men to sit up and to ride in pairs.  He now knew that the Legate would be watching them as they rode in and he was determined not to give him any cause for displeasure. He had pushed the ala on to reach it before dark and he had succeeded but the horses were lathered and looked tired.  He sighed to himself.  There were some things he could not control. Riding along the road flanked by the camps Marius realised that the best spots had already been taken; at first glance it looked like they would be a little too close to the river for his liking.  He saw auxiliary infantry recognising Gauls and Spaniards but he could see no cavalry. He knew that meant even more pressure on his untried ala.

Entering the gate he saw, immediately, the glowering face of the Legate flanked by his aide and Camp Prefect.  He saw the  Legate speak to his aide who scurried off. Halting before the Legate Marius resisted the urge to turn and watch his men line up behind him but he had faith in the officers.  They had proved themselves time and again on the journey from the east; he could trust them, even Murgus. When there was silence behind him he saluted and said, “First Pannonian Ala, Prefect Marius Ulpius Proculus commanding.”

There was silenced and the Legate approached Marius and then walked behind him to inspect the lines of troopers. After what seemed an age he returned to his post, now rejoined by his aide.  “Commanding what Prefect?  A rabble?  A mob? A horde?  What?”

Marius was confused and he risked a glance behind.  The men were sitting straight.  Their faces were forward and their armour was new.  What had he to complain about? “I am sorry sir, I am confused.  They are Pannonians…”

“They were Pannonians. Now they are Roman soldiers and they will look like them.  I want the facial hair removing and their hair cut appropriately.”

Marius heard the murmuring from behind him and he roared, “Silence in the ranks!”

“But sir their hair is part of their identity.  I thought auxiliaries were allowed a little leeway in such matters.”

Corbulo pointed an imperious finger at Marius. “Prefect, join me in the Praetorium.” As he passed the Campo Prefect Marius saw the slightest shake of the head and he followed the smug looking aide up the steps to the office. As soon as the door was closed an angry Legate turned on Marius.  “I do not argue with junior officers in front of the men.  This is my army and I say that your men will shave and have their hair cut and I will hear no more about leeway.  What other Legates allow is their business but I will have discipline!” He was shorter than the Prefect and when he approached him with wagging finger he had to look up at the cavalryman.  Proculus thought it must have looked ridiculous. “I know about you and your family.  I know how lucky you were and I will be watching you.  One mistake Prefect and your luck will run out. We have no time to shear all of your animals tonight but as a mark of our intent the camp tonsor is expecting your first men as an example to the rest.”

There was no arguing with such a martinet and Marius saluted and left. His men were as he had left them. He went to Flavius, “Have the First Turma remain behind. Chosen Man Cava, join them. Sextus take the rest of the ala and build a camp.  I will join you shortly.”

Wolf and Cava exchanged a look while the rest of the turma were just confused at the turn of events.  Why had they been selected?  Neither of the leaders thought it boded well and when the Prefect spoke with them they knew that it was not good news. “I am sorry lads but one turma is going to be shaved tonight.  You are the First Turma and you have shown yourselves to be loyal.  I know it is hard but…”

The Legate’s voice boomed from the top of the steps. “Just give the order Prefect.  Now!”

His eyes pleading Marius mounted his horse, “Follow me.” He set off behind the smug aide.  He hoped that they would follow but there was no guarantee. 

Behind him he heard Cava say, “Come on lads.  At least this way we’ll get rid of the lice and we don’t want the fat bastard upset do we?” Marius smiled, Cava had spoken in their own language and no-one else would understand.  The sound of the hooves on the parade ground told him that they had obeyed his orders and he breathed a sigh of relief. The tonsor was waiting eagerly. He was a legionary who earned extra money and the thought of shearing the barbarians appealed to him. He stood at his door as they dismounted. They waited for Flavius and the Prefect.  Wolf asked, “Why must we have our hair cut sir?  It will not make us better warriors.”

“The General thinks it will.”

“Come on then ladies, do no be shy.”

Cava walked up to the legionary.  Cava was a big, well built warrior and he had learned enough of the Roman words, thanks to Aulus Murgus to make himself understood. “Listen to me any blood and we will see yours too now cut mine first!”

He sat himself down and said a mental prayer to the gods of his family to forgive him. Wolf and the others watched as the hair was swiftly cut.  They had never seen hair cut before and did not know how quick it could be.  Cava changed before their eyes.  When the tonsor put soap on his face and took the sharp blade they were tempted to rush forward and stop their comrade being tortured.  Flavius saw the movement.  “It is fine lads, it just makes the shaving easier.” They had all seen the officers shaving themselves but they had just used water and a sharpened dagger.