The Legion - Scarrow Simon (книги читать бесплатно без регистрации TXT) 📗

Cato stared at him and smiled. 'Thank you. If there's time, I'll rest. But first I have to think about how we're going to win this campaign. Fine words are one thing, but they never won a battle. And after that business with Hamedes I can understand why they might question my judgement.'

'Bollocks. Hamedes was a spy. Spies are supposed to be good at winning trust. In any case, he didn't fool you in the end. You saw through him, and put a stop to his treachery,' Macro concluded bitterly.

Cato looked at him and saw that his friend was struggling to hide his true feelings. 'His betrayal hit you hard, didn't it?'

'Yes… I liked the lad. I thought he showed real guts in going into that valley to find Ajax's lair. Now I know it was all a sham. That bastard fooled me good and proper.'

Cato felt the need to offer his friend some crumb of comfort. 'For what it's worth, I think he admired you, despite being your enemy.'

'Even if that's true, what does it matter? Hamedes was Ajax's man. If I'd known, then I'd have killed him with my bare hands, without hesitation. I feel a bit of a fool, Cato. That's all there is to it. Good riddance.'

'Yes, of course.' Cato nodded, and knew it would be best to drop the subject. 'Macro, I need your help. I fear that we're in for the hardest battle we have ever fought.'

The first rays of the rising sun were angling across the low hills to the east as the Romans marched out of the camp at Karnak. The auxiliary cavalry led the way, its squadrons stretched out across the army to screen its advance. The main column was led by an auxiliary infantry cohort. Then came the legionaries, weighted down by their armour and the kit fixed to their marching yokes. Their helmets hung from brass hooks on their belts and the men wore light cotton headscarves to shield them from the glare of the coming day, and soak up the sweat from their scalps.

Long shadows were cast across the dust kicked up by preceding columns and from a short distance away, where Cato and Macro rode at the head of the small group of staff officers, the men appeared as dim figures amid the orange haze of dust. Behind the legion came the baggage train, together with the carts carrying the legion's complement of bolt throwers. There were rations for seven days and if the Nubians chose to fall back for any reason, Cato knew that he could only afford to pursue them a short distance. Prince Talmis would be certain to strip the land of supplies ahead of the Romans.

Tribune Junius edged his mount forward until it drew alongside the new commander of the army. He was silent for a moment and then coughed.

'What is it, Tribune?' asked Cato.

'Sir, I was wondering what your plans are for the coming battle.'

'To defeat the enemy.'

'Yes, of course, sir. Goes without saying.'

Macro turned to look at the tribune with a wry expression. 'So what more is there to say?'

Junius was not prepared to give in so easily and continued to address Cato. 'With respect, sir, I am now the senior tribune of the legion. In the event that anything happens to you and Centurion Macro, then the command will fall to me. I should know your intentions, sir. For the good of the army.'

Cato appraised him. It could only have been a few months since Junius was appointed a junior tribune and he was already bearing far greater responsibilities than his peers in other legions across the Empire. Such were the exigencies of war, Cato mused. It was true that Junius was third in the chain of command, in theory, yet although the centurions had accepted his own assumption of the legate's role, Cato doubted they would tolerate having to obey this callow youth, who had as much military experience as a raw recruit. Cato shook his head.

'You'll know my intentions in good time, Tribune. As for the prospect of having the command of the army foisted on you, I advise you to be careful what you wish for. You know how the saying goes?'

'Yes, sir. But I need to be ready, if misfortune should strike you and Macro.'

'Misfortune? That's a nice euphemism.' Cato chuckled drily. 'Learn the trade as fully as you can, Junius. Listen to the veterans and profit from their experience. Then you can think about command. For now, this is on-the-job training for you. That's all. You are not ready. If I fall, Macro takes over. If he falls, then it must be another man, not you. Despite regulations.'

'Oh…' A look of bitter disappointment clouded the tribune's face. 'I only want to serve Rome, sir. As devoutly as I can.'

'Devoutly?' Macro chuckled. 'This is the army, lad, not a religious cult. There's far more to it than rituals, ceremonies and mumbo-jumbo. We don't play at what we do. It's life and death for us and that means we have to be sure that the men are commanded by those who know what they're doing. See?'

Junius glared at Macro for a moment and then swallowed and nodded. With a curt nod of the head to his two superiors he halted his horse and fell back amongst the rest of the party of horsemen.

'Keen, isn't he?' Cato smiled. 'Reminds me of myself when I joined up.'

'Oh no, you were much more of a drip than him.'

Cato's eyes narrowed. 'Drip?'

'Come on, you know you were. Thin streak of piss, and clumsy with it. Yet you ponced in and thought you could command men in the field just because you'd read up on military history.' Macro smiled fondly at the memory. 'The army was the making of you, and you know it.'

Cato glanced round to make sure that the other officers were out of earshot of this rather frank appraisal of his early days in the service of Rome, and then turned back to Macro.

'It is true I might not have been ideal material for the Second Legion… but I learned quickly enough. Of course, I was lucky to have a fine mentor.'

'True,' Macro agreed, dispensing with false modesty.

Cato jerked his head back towards the others. 'Given time Junius will work out as well as I did. Better, in fact, given his senatorial background. Perhaps we should be careful how we speak to him,' Cato mused. 'One day he is sure to outrank us and then he might not be forgiving for past slights.'

'If today's little exchange still weighs on his mind years from now then, frankly, he doesn't deserve to rise to senior rank. I've seen generals come and go, Cato, and the small-minded ones never lasted long in post. That's one of the advantages of having an Emperor, I guess.' Macro scratched his ear. 'Claudius can dismiss any man who's not up to the job. He can afford to choose the best. The Emperor doesn't have to worry about appeasing political factions and dancing to their tune all the time.'

'Now who's being green?' Cato laughed. 'You really think emperors are above politics? Why do you think the biggest armies are always entrusted to close relatives of the imperial family? And why do emperors watch their other generals like hawks? That's why we were sent out to the eastern Empire in the first place, to keep an eye on Governor Longinus in Syria. Politics doesn't stop at the camp gate. Emperor Claudius knows that better than most of his predecessors. The army handed him the throne and he's rewarded them with handsome donatives ever since to make sure they know he hasn't forgotten it. Politics…' Cato sighed. 'It's what we must wade through all our lives.'

'Like a sewer, then,' Macro concluded with a grin, and Cato responded in kind. They rode on in silence for a moment before Cato spoke again.

'Junius will turn out all right, I think.'

'I hope so.'

'You doubt him?'

Macro pursed his lips briefly. 'I don't know. He's just a little too keen to please. He's trying too hard to prove himself. That can be dangerous – to him, and the men he may command one day.'

'Assuming he lives long enough,' Cato replied quietly. 'Surviving the next few days may well prove something of a challenge.'