The legate nodded silently and took a deep breath. 'Do you think it's safe?'
Varus squinted and could just make out the insignia rising from the gate top. Not the bronze boar, wolf or horse standards of the Gauls, but small red squares flapping in the breeze – too far away to make out anything other than basic colour and shape. 'I can still see the standards of the legions above the walls, and the bridge is intact, so it seems unlikely there's been any trouble. Plus there are a few columns of smoke, so someone is there keeping themselves warm.'
Fabius sucked in air through his teeth and turned to the junior tribune at his shoulder, a young man with an acne-ridden face and more experience of books than battles. 'Have the men encamp outside the near ramparts, this side of the stream. Varus and I and my guards are going to investigate. Once the legions are in position, have the senior centurions report to me in Noviodunum.'
As the tribune saluted and rode off inexpertly, the legate's small bodyguard fell into formation and accompanied the two senior officers towards the garrison. The stream that cut off this side of the former oppidum was narrow. Too wide for a horse to jump, but otherwise no real level of protection, for all its depth and steep banks. Caninius' forces had constructed a solid timber bridge in recent weeks and it was wide enough for three riders abreast. Beyond that, the gate of the oppidum sat open, a wall in the Gallic style disappearing off in either direction atop the rampart. Though the leaves of the gate were tied back, two bored-looking legionaries stood to attention at the sight of the approaching column and the officers out front. Fabius reined in at the walls, Varus and the guards with him.
'Do I assume that Gaius Caninius Rebilus is not currently in residence at Noviodunum, soldier?'
Varus looked up at the banners, bearing the marks of both the Fifth and Fifteenth legions and then back down to the soldiers.
'He is not, sir. Might I ask your name and business?' The man looked nervous, addressing such a senior officer with so curt a question, and well he might. Varus had seen some officers react badly to being questioned over anything so basic. Fabius appeared not to be one of them. Such a question was to be expected of anyone seeking entrance to a fortress, regardless of rank.
'Quintus Fabius Maximus, lieutenant of Caesar, commanding the Eighth and Ninth legion, with orders to link up with your own commander. If he is not present, to whom shall I present myself and my officers?'
The legionary flushed slightly despite himself.
'The most senior officer in camp is Centurion Aurelius Memor, Hastatus Posterior of the Sixth Cohort, Fourth Century of the Fifth Legion. He will be in the headquarters building, sir, which is to say the big one with the tile roof off the main square. The legions' flags hang out front, sir, so it’s easy to find.'
Fabius turned a raised eyebrow to Varus, who shrugged. The rank of the centurion given identified him as one of the lowest ranking centurions in the most junior legion in the army. For the man to be in charge of Noviodunum, the garrison here must be tiny.
'Thank you, soldier. Keep up the good work.' Fabius gestured for his guards to follow and urged on his horse, trotting into the oppidum, bound for the centre. Varus fell in alongside him. Noviodunum was not large – one of the smaller oppida they had encountered, in fact, but it was well-appointed. Its houses were of good quality and its gardens well-tended. The streets were rough as usual, but the occupying garrison had given them a new surface of gravel to combat the mess winter made of such places.
Here and there they spotted signs of garrison life, though with little current activity. Houses stood empty, but with horse tethering posts outside recently installed by the Roman occupants. Some houses had portable grain querns by the doorstep where the legionaries had ground their flour for bread. Signs of occupation, if not life.
The first soldiers they saw were two streets in from the gate. Two men were busy with a large barrow load of limestone chippings filling pits in the road. The two men were so surprised to see officers that it took them a moment to drop their tools and straighten into a salute, clouds of white dust blooming up around them.
Varus and the others returned the salute and rode on into the heart of Noviodunum.
The 'headquarters building' was notable for three reasons. It bore the flags of the legions. It was the largest and best-appointed structure on the square. And most obvious of all, it was actually occupied.
A legionary by the building's door snapped to startled attention at the sight of the approaching officers. It seemed that even with such an empty base and no immediate threats, the centurion had maintained a guard not only at the oppidum gate, but also on the headquarters. Such a man would likely also have a guard on the granaries and the stores. Despite the man's mediocre rank, it boded well to see such attention to duty. Fabius turned to his men.
'Stay here in the square. You can dismount and relax. We may be some time.'
He gestured to Varus and the two men approached the door.
'Quintus Fabius Maximus and Quintus Atius Varus to see your commander.'
The legionary saluted. 'If you'll follow me, sirs.'
Varus and Fabius exchanged a glance again. That the man had to leave his post to show them in confirmed the small size of the garrison. The two officers strode in through the door. All in the headquarters was in good order, though only one room they passed was occupied, a clerk busy working through piles of tablets, who didn't even look up at the noise of footsteps passing. Centurion Aurelius Memor was a thin, wiry man with skin like teak and a scar from ear to nose that gave his mouth a permanent and unfortunate sneer. He rose hurriedly at the arrival of his visitors and saluted.
'Centurion. Good. I hope you have a few moments for us?'
The officer's surprise was quickly replaced by a professional solemness and he gestured to the seat opposite. 'Please, sir. Take a seat. I shall just fetch another and some refreshment.'
Again the two new arrivals glanced at one another. How short-staffed were they that the garrison commander could not even afford a man to attend him?
Varus gestured at the seat and with a smile of relief Fabius sank into it, rubbing his hips, sore from the long ride. After a few moments, Memor returned with a second chair and placed it beside the first. As Varus thanked him and took his seat, the centurion hurried out and was gone again for a while before returning with a tray, upon which sat a platter of fruit, jars of wine and water and two cups. He placed the tray before the officers and returned to his side of the desk.
'You must excuse all the bustle, sirs.'
'You are truly a man for all roles, centurion. Tell me: how many men are here under your command?'
Memor sighed meaningfully, and then looked embarrassed, remembering the rank of those he was addressing. 'A single undermanned century, sir. We have sixty two on parchment, sir, but only twenty four active soldiers.'
'So few?' Varus murmured.
'Yessir. There's been an outbreak of the flux.' He hurriedly waved his hands before him in a calming gesture, despite the fact that neither of his visitors had reacted. 'It's under control though, sirs. No danger, but most of my men are still too weak to deal with active duty. We only lost three, so I thank Mars and Minerva daily for that.'
'I can imagine. You seem to be doing an excellent job of maintaining the garrison despite your situation, centurion. I will commend you to your commander when I see him and advocate your advancement to a more significant position. And speaking of Caninius…'
The centurion nodded. 'I understand, sir, and thank you. Legate Caninius has both legions with him at Limonum. We were only left here to act as couriers for messages and overseers for supplies.'