The Eagle In The Sand (23 page)

Cato’s gaze flickered towards the old officer and he saw Parmenion lower his head and stare at the ground between his boots.

‘Well then, gentlemen,’ Macro continued, crossing his arms as he glared at them like a disappointed school-teacher. ‘Things are going to change here at Bushir. I’ll tell you why. It has nothing to do with the corrupt little scams you were so happy to take part in, though we’ll be dealing with that soon enough, as you’ll see. No, the reason why things must change is that we are on the verge of witnessing our very own native uprising. All thanks to the former prefect’s winning ways with the local villagers, and your willingness to go along with him. As we sit here, Bannus is busy building up a formidable band of followers. What you may not know is that, in all likelihood, he has cut a deal with our Parthian friends who have promised to arm his men.’

This information caused a ripple of anxious murmurs to flow through the officers.

‘Quiet!’ Macro shouted. ‘I did not give you permission to talk.’

The men instantly stilled their tongues and Macro nodded with satisfaction. He was beginning to enjoy this feeling of command. ‘That’s more like it. So, now I think you can see the scale of the challenge that faces us. It’s up to the Second Illyrian to find and destroy Bannus and his brigands, before they grow strong enough to come and destroy us. At the same time, I’ll brook no more harsh treatment of the local people.We’ve already done enough to drive them into Bannus’ arms. It’s probably too late to win them back on to our side, so we’re not going to try. What we will not do is provoke them any further. From now on any man, or officer, who wades into the locals will share the fate of trooper Canthus.You all know what happened to him. Now you know what will happen to any others who follow his example. Make sure your men are aware of that. I’ll accept no excuses.We cannot afford to act as recruiting officers for Bannus.’

There were some brief disapproving murmurs and some officers exchanged disgruntled looks, until they realised that the new prefect was glaring at them and fell silent again.

‘I am aware that none of what I have said so far is likely to have gone down well with you, gentlemen. That’s just tough on all of us.The question is, what are we going to do about it? For my part, I’m going to let you start with a clean slate. There will be no further mention of your corruption or dereliction of duty. So you all have a chance to prove yourselves worthy. You didn’t win promotion to the rank you hold today by taking bribes, so all of you must have been good soldiers at one time. That time has come again. In the next few days you’re all going to do some hard soldiering.Your men will need the best from you and I will not hesitate to break any slackers back to the ranks.You will all lead by example.You will all lead from the front.’ He paused to make sure that they had got the point. ‘Right, well, that’s it.You know what I require from you.There’s plenty of work to do, and you’ll receive your orders as soon as possible. One last thing. I noticed that the standard of the Second Illyrian carries no awards. That’s going to change. I have never left a unit without adding at least one medallion to its standard.The same applies to this cohort. So let’s all do something we can be proud of, eh? Dismiss!’

The officers rose smartly to their feet and stiffened to attention, saluted, and then began to shuffle towards the doors leading from the hall. Macro watched them carefully as they dispersed, pleased with his performance and feeling that he had put some iron back into his new subordinates. As the last of them left the hall Cato came over.

‘How did you think that went?’ Macro asked.

‘Blunt, but to the point.’

Macro frowned. ‘I’m trying to kick them into shape, Cato, not win first fucking prize in a rhetoric competition.’

‘Oh, in that case, it went rather well.’ Cato smiled. ‘No, seriously, I think that was just what they needed to hear. I like the touch about the standard. Is that true?’

‘No. Load of bollocks. But it’s the kind of thing that goes down well with the glory-hunters. And that’s just what we’ll need if Bannus decides to take the cohort on.’

‘I suppose so.’ Cato conceded. ‘And what exactly are your first orders, sir?’

Macro was a little taken aback by Cato’s last word, but realised immediately that it was right that his friend should defer to his new rank of prefect. It reminded him of the days when they had served in the Second Legion in Germany and Britain, when Cato had been his optio, and then a junior centurion in the same cohort. Much had happened since then, and Macro had grown used to treating the younger officer as an equal in most respects, but now the situation had changed and the professional in him accepted it as a necessity.

‘Has Symeon left for Petra yet?’

‘Just before the briefing.’

‘Did you make quite sure he understood exactly what I wanted him to do?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Good.’ Macro nodded.’Right then, it’s time we made preparations for dealing with Bannus, and those desert raiders.’

The new prefect of the Second Illyrian made his presence felt at once. Barracks inspections were made at dawn and dusk and every infringement of rules punished. The men were drilled for twice as long as they had been before, and after each century had completed the regulation manoeuvres it was quick-marched round the fort until noon, when at last the men were permitted to fall out, panting and thirsty in the merciless glare of the sun. The officers quickly recovered their professional edge and worked themselves as hard as their men. There were no further patrols into the surrounding villages. Instead the mounted scouts observed the locals from a discreet distance and concentrated their efforts on searching for signs of Bannus and his men.The geography of the region was such that a large force could hide in the caves of the numerous wadis that cut through the landscape. Their only weakness was a dependence on food and water which they needed to draw from the settlements. Whenever the scouts saw a suspicious-looking party of men arrive at a village they attempted to follow them as they left, but always their prey managed to vanish into the clefts of the mountains that rose up on the east shore of the Dead Sea.

Prefect Macro concentrated his efforts on selecting a detachment for a special task. He needed the pick of the cohort’s mounted men, and he needed their riding ability to be matched by their skill with a bow.As in many of the cohorts in the region, there was already a small number of men able to use the powerful compound bow favoured by eastern warriors. These Macro kept practising at the hastily erected target range outside the fort, until they were proficient at a variety of distances.

At the same time the cohort’s carpenter had been tasked with designing a saddle frame equipped to carry lightweight burdens which could be jettisoned in an instant. Other men worked hard to create dummy bundles of fabrics to be loaded on to the saddle frames. All was ready by the end of the tenth day after Macro had taken control of the cohort.The same evening a message arrived from Petra. Symeon had done as he had been asked and contacted the merchants whose caravan Macro had saved. They had agreed to meet Macro and his men at the same place as before – the Nabataean way station – at dusk in three days’ time.

On the night before Macro and his small force of men left Fort Bushir, he had a final meal with Cato in the dining room of the prefect’s quarters. Scrofa, no doubt flush with the money he had extorted from the caravan cartels, had decorated his accommodation lavishly and the walls of the dining room were alive with hunting scenes set in lush green landscapes so utterly different from the barren wilderness stretching out around the fort that it made both men long for the kinder, temperate landscapes of Italy or even Britain.

‘Say what you like about Scrofa,’ Macro said, as he chewed on a chunk of roast kid, ‘at least he knew how to live.’

‘So I can see.’ Cato was still billeted in the same room at headquarters where he and Macro had been confined. Given the mood of some of the officers it had been felt necessary for Cato to remain at the administrative heart of the cohort and keep watch on their activities. At the same time, he made sure that the two prisoners in the cell did not speak to anyone. Scrofa and Postumus were sent their food, and had their slops bucket emptied, rinsed and returned, and that was all the contact with others that Cato allowed them.

‘How is Scrofa coping?’ Macro asked.

‘Well enough. He’s stopped playing the outraged innocent and given up demanding to be set free. What worries me is that the other officers keep asking what is going to happen to the pair of them.’

‘Just tell them that those two will be treated fairly and given a proper hearing once we’ve settled things with Bannus. If that doesn’t work then tell them to keep their mouths shut and their noses out of things that don’t concern them, unless they want to share the same cell.’

‘Do you think they will be given a hearing?’

‘Not if Narcissus has anything to do with it.They’ll be interrogated to reveal anything they know about Longinus, and then disposed of.You know what Narcissus is like, Cato.’

‘I know. But there’s no concrete proof that Longinus is plotting anything at the moment. All the evidence we have is pretty weak. In which case Scrofa and Postumus might not be guilty of plotting against the Emperor.’

‘Maybe not,’ Macro agreed, helping himself to another mouthful of goat. ‘But they’re certainly guilty of screwing up the situation here on the frontier. Even if we get through this business with Bannus, it’s going to take years to mend our relations with the locals. If we ever do.’

Cato nodded thoughtfully, and then replied, ‘Perhaps the Emperor should consider abandoning Judaea.’

Macro nearly choked. ‘Abandon the province! Why on earth do that?’

‘I’ve seen nothing here that makes me think the Judaeans will ever accept their place in the Empire. They’re just too different.’

‘Bollocks!’ Macro spluttered, and a gobbet of gristle narrowly missed Cato’s ear as it sailed over the dining couch. ‘Judaea is like any other province. A bit wild and untamed at first, but give it enough time and we’ll make them see things our way. They’ll embrace the Roman way of life whether they like it or not.’

‘You think so? When was Judaea annexed? In the age of Pompey. That’s over a hundred years ago. And the Judaeans are still as intractable as ever.They cling to their religious practices as if they were the only things that mattered.’

‘The situation could be improved if we could only persuade them to worship our gods, or at least get them to worship our gods alongside theirs,’ Macro concluded impatiently.

‘Well we won’t manage it. So perhaps we should give up the idea of including Judaea in the empire, or we should crush them, destroy their religion and everyone who holds to it.’

‘That might do it,’ Macro agreed.

Cato stared at him. ‘I was being ironic.’

‘Ironic? Really?’ Macro shook his head and tore off another strip of meat. ‘Well I bloody well wasn’t. If we’re going to make the Empire safe, then we have to make sure that we control this region. Not Parthia. These people will have to accept Roman rule, and like it, or else.’

Cato did not respond. He could see the limitations of Macro’s approach all too clearly. As in most provinces the Romans had tried to establish a ruling class to collect tax and administer the law in Judaea. Only this time the common people had seen through those who claimed to be their natural leaders. That’s why Judaea had become such a sore in the flesh of the empire.The Judaeans could not be left to run their own affairs on Roman lines because their religion would not permit it. So Rome would have to intervene in order to enforce Roman rule. Unfortunately, she would have to intervene on such a scale that the cost of maintaining Judaea was far in excess of the tax revenue that could be generated, unless the people were squeezed for every coin available, and that in turn would only lead to revolt sooner or later. More troops would be required to restore and then maintain order. More taxes would be required to pay for the enlarged garrisons needed to keep the Judaeans in line, and so the vicious cycle of rebellion and repression would continue on and on. No wonder Centurion Parmenion was so weary and worn out after his years of service in the province.

With a sudden flash of insight Cato realised that this was why Parmenion had been prepared to surrender Canthus to the mob. The soldier had outraged the villagers, and Parmenion had faced a stark choice. If he had tried to defend his man and ignore the offence, or protect him, he would have provoked a riot and simply added to the friction that was remorselessly tearing Judaea to pieces. Canthus’ death had served notice on Roman and Judaean alike that no one was above the law. If only such a principle became general policy then some accommodation between Rome and Judaea was possible.

Macro was watching him closely.’Don’t go soft on me now, lad. Whatever you may think are the rights and wrongs of the situation, we have a mission to carry through. About the hardest job that’s ever landed on our plate. I can’t afford to have you thinking about where all this goes. Keep your mind on what we must do. Worry about the other stuff later on, when it’s safe to do it.’ He chuckled. ‘And if you’re still alive to do it.’

Cato smiled back. ‘I’ll try.’

‘Good. I’ll feel a lot better knowing that you are keeping an eye on things in the fort while I’m gone.’

‘Is it really necessary to do this?’

‘We need all the friends we can get in this region. If my plan works out, then it should go a long way towards restoring relations with the Nabataeans. That bastard Scrofa has a lot to answer for.’

‘Yes,’ Cato replied quietly. ‘Are you sure you want me to stay here?’

‘Absolutely. Most of the officers are good men, but we’ve seen how easily they can be led from the straight and narrow. There’s a few of them I still don’t trust. They’ll need watching.The last thing we need right now is some kind of counter-coup to restore Scrofa to command. That would be a bloody disaster. So you have to stay here, Cato. Anyway, I’d thought you’d be glad to have a cohort of your own to command.’