Julius looked at the protected shield again.
‘How quickly can we have every man in the legion protected like this?’
Avidus pursed his lips.
‘I can convert five hundred shields a day given fifty men to work with. After all, it’s just cutting and gluing for the most part. Dirty work, but not difficult, and the raw materials are already in hand. Eight days?’
Scaurus slapped a clenched fist into his palm.
‘I can’t give you eight days. You’ll just have to go faster. I want a thousand shields a day converting, and I don’t care how you make it happen.’
He grimaced at Julius.
‘There must be that many men in the legion cells after last night’s rather vigorous celebrations. Tell them that their punishment is five days of gluing linen to wood, and that the sooner they get done the quicker they’ll be freed.’
He turned back to Avidus.
‘That’s a good start, Centurion. Now let’s talk about the rest of that list I gave you, shall we.’
The African nodded.
‘Yes Legatus. Now firstly, about these other shields you wanted making? I’m still struggling to see what use they’re going to be when they’re so big they can barely be lifted.’
‘Mules, Dubnus?’
‘Mules, Morban. Four legs, big ears, nasty kick on them?’
The veteran standard bearer looked up at the man who had once been his colleague with an expression of disgust, putting down his spoon and resting his elbows on the taverna’s dining table.
‘I should have known there was more to the offer of a feed in the city with you two than met the eye.’ Dubnus smirked at him from his place alongside his colleague Otho, chewing hard at a piece of gristle. ‘And I do know, Your Highness, what a mule is. I was simply expressing my lack of understanding as to why you should need so many of them.’
Otho, a famously pugilistic officer with a reputation for punching first and then not asking any questions before punching again just to be sure, leaned forward and bared his gaped teeth at the standard bearer in a fearsome smile, his voice permanently hoarse from a lifetime of bellowing at recruits.
‘But if we told you, it wouldn’t be much of a secret, would it, what with your constant hunt for inside information? Before we knew it, the legion would be taking bets on what all the new mules will be carrying.’
‘I can be hurt, Centurion! You may see me as a bluff, hard-faced soldier, but-’
Dubnus laughed, tapping Morban on the chest.
‘Don’t forget I was Chosen Man to Tribune Corvus, back when he was a centurion and you were his statue waver. Which means that what I see you as, Standard Bearer, is a venal bastard with an eye to his own enrichment and an unending thirst for other people’s gold. But while you’re all those things, you’re also the best man I can think of when it comes to buying three hundred mules for the legion.’
He watched as the standard bearer’s eyes narrowed in calculation. Morban took another mouthful of his meal, clearly thoughtful as he chewed energetically and swallowed before speaking again.
‘Three hundred mules? Really?’
‘Three hundred. All to be capable of carrying a heavy load, with plenty of life left in them. If you think you’ll be able to make a profit by buying animals bound for the slaughterhouse, you’re missing one critical factor from your calculations.’
Dubnus hooked a thumb at the man sitting next to him.
‘Him.’
Otho grinned at the standard bearer, ostentatiously raising his vine stick in a fist that was more scar tissue than knuckles, and Morban nodded slowly.
‘I can see the merit in your argument, Centurions. So, you want to buy these beasts of burden without the sheer size of your requirement forcing prices up?’
The veteran centurion raised an eyebrow at Dubnus.
‘You see? I told you he still possesses enough wit to see sense.’
He turned back to the standard bearer.
‘You’ve got it. That’s why if the fact we’re buying mules leaks out I’ll be forced to beat you until that’s not all that’s leaking out.’
His colleague reached out and took a handful of the standard bearer’s tunic.
‘Or to put it another way, if it gets out that the legion wants to buy that many animals, the price going through the roof will only be part of our problems. So, if by any mysterious means that should happen, once Otho here has broken your nose for what will clearly be the twentieth time, I’ll confiscate not only your profits but every coin in your purse, those held for you by your various employees, and in your various secret hiding places.’
Morban shook his head in irritated bafflement.
‘I can take a hint. But if it’s that important to get these beasts bought, why not just gather the city’s donkey dealers and show them the colour of your gold and the edge of your dagger? Since when did the army ever negotiate with a pack of mule mongers?’
Dubnus smirked.
‘You may know how many beans make three, Morban, but you’re not the sharpest sword in the armoury when it comes to outwitting senior officers, are you?’
He shook his head at the older man’s bemusement.
‘The governor has forbidden the legatus to take more than half the legion with him over the Euphrates.’
The standard bearer shrugged.
‘I knew that.’
The centurion turned away, looking about him at the taverna’s other clients and making sure that their conversation could not be overheard.
‘You would have been hard put not to have heard it. The governor has made a point of making it clear to one and all that he intends to protect the city with the other half of the legion. So, what do you think he might make of the news that the legatus is in the market for such a very large number of mules?’
‘Ah …’
‘Indeed, ah. So here’s the bargain, Morban. You will receive enough gold to purchase three hundred mules at the current market price. You will find those mules, you and whoever you choose to join you in the venture, and you will buy them, quietly and without a fuss, within the next two days. You will not pay other men to steal them, which will inevitably attract both attention to our preparations, and Otho’s vine stick to your nether regions.’
Otho smiled evilly, holding up his vine stick again and pointing to a knot on one side.
‘And when you’ve managed to put three hundred more beasts into the legion stables, you can share whatever money you have left with the men you chose to help you.’
The standard bearer nodded swiftly.
‘I’m your man, Centurion.’ He grinned across the table with a conspiratorial wink.
‘And just between us three … say the legatus does manage to smuggle another cohort or two out from under the governor’s nose. It still doesn’t take three hundred mules to carry that much equipment. So what’s the real need for that many animals, eh?
Dubnus beckoned Morban with a crooked finger. The burly centurion leaned closer, his voice so quiet that the veteran could barely hear the whispered words.
‘I can tell you something. Something the legatus said to me …’
The standard bearer leaned closer, his eyes narrowing in concentration.
‘Yes?’
Dubnus nodded, and his battle-scarred colleague whipped his vine stick into Morban’s crotch beneath the table, the standard bearer’s eyes suddenly bulging at its hard intrusion.
‘He specifically told me to bring Otho to this discussion because he knows that you and I go back a long way, which could well reduce the credibility of any threat I might make if you were stupid enough to think in the wrong way. Whereas Otho here would be only too happy to use you for a punchbag.’
The veteran officer withdrew the stick, repeating his horrible grin as he leaned back and picked up his wine cup.