The Legion

In the middle of the afternoon Cato looked up to see the pylons and standards of Karnak wavering in the distance. His heart lifted at the sight, and he gritted his teeth and looked down again, concentrating on each step in turn, not wanting to look up and see the temples seeming as far off as ever.

'Step up the pace, lads!' Macro called out cheerfully. 'We're almost home. Let's show the other cohorts how real soldiers march!'

His words were met with silence and Macro paused and turned back to face them. 'What's the matter with you? Are we happy?'

Those centurions who had served in the northern legions, and Cato, answered him in a chorus. 'Are we fuck!'

Macro laughed, and turned to lead them the final mile back to the training ground outside the temple complex. The optios hurriedly ordered the men to dress their ranks and raise their chins as they turned off the road and the column trudged on to the open ground, back to the positions they had occupied before they had set off at daybreak.

'Column! Stand to attention!' Macro's bellow echoed back off the mud-brick wall. He set his pack down, reached for his canteen and took a long swig before stoppering it. Then he slowly paced along the lines of sweating, panting legionaries, inspecting their ranks. One more man collapsed as he stood waiting for the column to be dismissed. Macro ignored him. He put his hands on his hips and addressed the exhausted men.

'That is but a taste of what is expected of you once the campaign begins. I know that the Jackals are keen to test themselves in battle with the Nubians. You have the spirit of true soldiers, but you must also have the body. It is the army that marches hardest that also fights hardest, and wins.'

Macro's words died away with the late afternoon breeze. He stared at them a moment longer and then shouted the order. 'Column!… Fall out!'

As soon as the order was given the men seemed to sag under the weight of their yokes and then in ones and twos they began to stagger across the training ground towards the north gate of Karnak. Macro watched them for a moment before he caught sight of Hamedes and nodded a greeting to him.

'Well done, lad! Seems you're as fit as any man here.'

Hamedes puffed his cheeks. 'I think I may not take you up on that offer of a place in the legion, sir.'

'Hah!' Macro jerked his thumb towards the gate. 'Get in there and have a good night's rest. When the morning comes you'll wonder what you were complaining about. And then you'll try and get up and feel like a complete cripple.'

'Thank you, sir,' Hamedes said flatly, and walked stiffly away.

Cato was draining the last drops of his canteen when Macro approached him. 'You went the distance after all.'

'Did I?' Cato's feet burned so much it was an effort to stand up. 'So this is what being dead on your feet feels like…'

'Ah, don't make such a fuss.' He nodded towards the carts trundling across the training ground. 'At least you did it. Some didn't. I've had one of the optios draw up a list of those who dropped out.' Macro reached into the sling hanging round his neck and fished out a small waxed slate. 'Here you are.'

'Thanks.' Cato glanced down at his yoke. 'I suppose it would be bad form to call over one of the sentries to carry this back to the supplies officer for me.'

'Very bad form.'

'Shit… Well, in for a sestertius, in for a denarius.' Cato reached down and heaved the ponderous weight back on to his shoulder and walked with Macro towards the gate. 'I'll drop this off and eat, drink and have a rest. Then there's one final matter to attend to this evening before I'm done for the day.'

Aurelius looked down at the list by the light of his oil lamp and shook his head. 'These are all good men. I've known them for years. You can't have them removed from their posts.'

'Sir, they failed to complete the route march. They're out of condition. Some of them are so overweight they can't fit properly into their armour any more. They are a liability to the men under their command. When you lead the army against the enemy, those officers will fail to keep up with the army, as they failed to keep up with today's marching column. Who will command their men then? They will lack an officer when they most need one.' He paused. 'They have to be removed from the battle line.'

The legate let out a long sigh. 'It may be true that they are not in peak form but they have other qualities.'

'Such as?'

'Well, er, experience. They spent many years working their way up through the ranks, as I did. There's not much that they don't know about soldiering.'

'How much campaign experience have they had, sir?'

Aurelius frowned and lowered the list. He stared up at Cato. 'You're not going to let this pass, are you?'

'No, sir. You appointed me and Centurion Macro to take charge of the men's training. It is my professional assessment that these men are unfit for active duty. Of course, it would be a shame to humiliate them through demotion or dismissal from the legion. So why not redeploy them to your headquarters, or leave them here to command the garrison? That way they won't hinder their men, and you can make use of their experience.'

'And who will replace these men?'

'Centurion Macro has already identified a number of optios who are good enough to promote to the centurionate.'

'I see.' Aurelius fixed Cato with a cold expression. 'You have it all worked out, don't you?'

'I do my duty and serve Rome to the best of my ability, sir. That's all,' Cato replied evenly. 'In any case, you wanted the legion to be ready to march as soon as possible. The sooner these men are replaced, the sooner you will be able to wage war on the Nubians.'

'Yes. I suppose you are right.' Auelius picked up the waxed tablet. 'I'll have these officers reassigned immediately. Let me know who you and Macro have nominated to replace them as soon as you can.'

Cato nodded.

'Will that be all?' Aurelius asked.

The tone of the question caught Cato by surprise. It was almost as if their positions had been reversed and the legate was asking him for permission to end their meeting. For a brief moment Cato felt pity for the man. His responsibilities exceeded his capabilities and yet he was proud and determined enough to insist on retaining command of the legion and the auxiliary cohorts that made up his modest army. That might well become something of a problem, Cato decided. Aurelius would have to be handled carefully if the Nubians were going to be defeated. He had to be treated with a careful balance between deference and direction.

'Yes, sir. If I may have your permission to be dismissed?'

'Of course.' Aurelius waved his hand towards the far end of the pool. 'You may go.'

Cato bowed his head and turned to walk stiffly away. He had just passed through the colonnade into the adjacent courtyard when one of the junior tribunes came running through the entrance, breathing hard. The legion was Caius Junius's first appointment and he had arrived only a day before Cato and Macro. A study youth, he had the lighter complexion typical of a Roman. Junius was excitable and anxious to please. He hurried towards Cato as soon as he saw him.

'What is it, Junius?' asked Cato.

The officer struggled to catch his breath.

'Speak up, man!' Cato frowned impatiently.

'It's the enemy, sir… They're here.'

Cato felt a cold stab of anxiety. 'What do you mean?'

'On the far bank, sir.' Junius gulped down some more breath. 'They've attacked one of our outposts, sir.'

Cato glanced towards the inner courtyard. 'Tell the legate. Then summon the senior officers to headquarters at once. Except you. You're the duty officer at present?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Then once you've told the legate, and sent for the officers, have the assembly sounded. Every legionary and auxiliary is to be ready for action as soon as possible. Now go.'