"Right, then I'd better see Narcissus and see if it is all right by him."
"I've already seen him," Gaius said. "He'll be pleased to have your company, and I've given him a letter to Claudius explaining why you're going back. When you've done what has to be done, you're welcome to rejoin me for next year's campaigning, and I promise you'll have a privileged view."
* * *
Shortly after Timothy departed, the man who had yelled out "Io, Saturnalia!" was called to Gaius' tent.
"I see you are one of the more disruptive in your cohort and you have a rather impressive list of fatigues," Gaius remarked, "but you're also a good soldier when you put your mind to it."
The man stood impassively.
"As it happens you've done me a great favour," Gaius continued, "so we shall wipe these fatigues."
"Thank you, sir."
"I've also looked into the cause of those fatigues."
The man returned to standing impassively.
"Apparently," Gaius continued, "you seem to have this propensity for making smart comments when things aren't going right, almost like this call today."
The man said nothing.
"You think you know better?"
The man did not reply, but stood at attention, waiting for the rebuke.
"I see you can restrain yourself some of the time," Gaius nodded. "As it happens, on at least one of the occasions, your comment had some merit, not that I can approve of your making it. I hope you can see that war is not the time for smart-arsed comments when an order is given?"
"Yes sir."
"The question is, can you be more disciplined when the invasion starts? Can you restrain yourself from these bouts of, shall we say, loutishness?"
There was no reply, but the man was clearly feeling awkward.
"I'm prepared to take a chance with you," Gaius continued. "You're a good soldier when you put your mind to it, so put your mind to it as of now. I need men who can see an opening and are prepared to take advantage of it, without being silly. I'm going to make you an Optio, and I hope you won't let me down when the fighting starts."
"I won't. Thank you, sir."
"Right," Gaius said with a smile. "Dismissed."
Chapter 23
Dubrae! So keen the anticipation, Gaius noted to himself, that everybody had forgotten about falling over the end of the world. On the other hand, this might almost be the end of the world. Directly in front was a small harbour, behind which was a small fishing village. On the waterfront, when the fishermen saw this mighty fleet approaching, they dropped whatever they were doing and fled. Not too far away to the left and right, cliffs rose from the sea. As they got closer Gaius noticed that directly in front there was some reasonably flat land that narrowed as it went inwards. To both left and right there were promontories that should have made good observation points for defenders, were any there.
It occurred to Gaius that if he were a Celt and had a reasonable number of troops and some artillery, he would back himself to repel this invasion. The Celts knew exactly where the Romans would land, because they had to land at places other than below vertical cliffs, and where a number of ships could reasonably unload troops on sufficient land that the troops could advance and get out of the road of the troops yet to land. There were only about three such sites, and Rome was using all of them. The act of landing involved the invaders coming ashore slowly and beaching their boats, but not beaching them so firmly that the boats could not immediately put to sea again, which was required if they were to get out of the way of the next boats. This was a very slow exercise, and catapults firing onto the beach would cause chaos for the final thirty meters or so, while out to two or three hundred meters direct hits from the large ballistae would be sufficient to put a hole in most boats. The ballistae could also employ fire bolts, which would also have interesting consequences. The heavily armoured soldier was not going to swim ashore, and if any made it, troops on the shore with long spears would have a significant advantage, with the invaders struggling to even stand up in the surf and the undertow. The artillery on the shore would effectively have free shots, because there was nothing on these boats that could return fire, except perhaps for some archers, and those archers could do nothing to artillery that was properly placed on rises.
As they approached the beach, Gaius saw a small head look out from a hut. He smiled to himself as he saw a pair of arms pull the youngster back in. The mother need not fear. There was no Celtic force that would lead to fighting, and the Roman soldiers were under no illusions. Gaius had made it very clear that any crime against the local civilians would be met with the most severe punishment a Claudian could imagine, and as the last thirty years in Rome had shown, Claudii were not without imagination when it came to punishment.
As Gaius had predicted, the ships arrived shortly after dawn with a tide about to run in. The boats were driven into the beach and the troops rushed onto land. Gaius ordered an immediate march from the leading centuries to secure the high ground to the north of the bay, and as soon as the next wave of boats beached, further centuries were dispatched to secure the southern hill. The soldiers quickly advanced, but there was no opposition. The fourth cohort, when it landed, was sent inland. They marched two miles, then began to set up camp on the flattest available spot. Fortifications were erected, and watches set. This, Gaius realized, was the second most vulnerable period, as a full legion was so large it would take quite some time to get it all in place.
Over the next few days the rest of the legion, its auxiliaries, its equipment and its supplies landed, unopposed. The frantic construction of defensive fortifications later gave rise to a number of rude jokes, for there seemed to be nothing to defend against. The local tribes kept a polite distance, and the Roman soldiers did nothing to antagonize their "allies". In order to keep the locals as allies, Gaius offered to buy fish. The fishermen's eyes lit up when they heard how many were required. A full legion could eat a lot of fish, and "luxurious" food would do a lot for morale. Rations could return to normal once the invasion was well underway.
All went well the first day, and on the second, once the paperwork was completed, Gaius found himself with nothing to do. Again, the last thing the Tribunes would want was his overseeing, so he decided to walk to the inner edge of the camp and view the country they had come to conquer. A slight feeling of unease began to descend on him as he peered out over what was a rather wild scene. A half a mile to the west of the Roman camp on the side of a small hill were three pathetic huts made of old and decaying thatching, from which ragged children emerged from time to time. As he got closer, their lack of nutrition became obvious, but even more so was their lack of attention to hygiene. It was hard to tell when they had last washed, and it looked as if the rags they were dressed in had never been washed. Their expression was surly, and when offered food they grabbed it and pulled away. As far as Gaius could tell, they knew no Latin. The huts were flimsy, and beside one of the huts was a pathetic heap of firewood, far too small to protect them from the winter. There was no obvious sign of a father, which meant there was nobody to get more wood, nobody to get food. Yes, there were poor in Rome too, he knew, but at least it was warmer and drier in Rome. The poor were just a fact of life, and nothing could be done about them.
That was not quite correct, he realized, as if Rebecca was reminding him. He had the power of life and death. He could encourage tribal chieftains to see that such poor were able to live tolerably. It was not as if they would willingly turn him down, for there was nobody to overturn his decisions as to who would be sent to Rome as slaves. And while he was not intent on sending any more than he was ordered to, and allies would not be sent, they did not know that. He would have a word with the local chief. Those children would be fed. Perhaps, he smiled to himself, this walk was achieving something after all.