Fortress of Spears (12 page)

Scaurus nodded.

‘You’re the man that rode through the barbarian warband during the battle for White Strength and lived to tell the tale. You must have balls the size of goose eggs.’

The decurion tilted his head to acknowledge the compliment.

‘Amulius Cornelius Felix, Tribune.’

‘And I’m Gaius Rutilius Scaurus, tribune commanding First and Second Tungrian Cohorts, and temporarily appointed to lead this detachment. How long is it since you were wounded, Decurion?’

Felix frowned in concentration for a moment.

‘Fifteen days, Tribune.’

‘Just over two weeks? Are you sure that you’re fit enough for field duty?’

The cavalryman smiled slightly.

‘Not really, but given another week I’ll be perfectly fine. In the meantime I’m more than capable of riding and issuing these layabouts with orders, and we have another four decurions who can do the running around until I can lift a sword again.’

‘Tribune Licinius commends you as a competent officer, and tells me that you’ll be worth the wait. He also tells me to keep an eye open for your horse?’

Felix smiled easily, pulling his mount’s head down until it was alongside his own, stroking the animal’s long face affectionately.

‘What, dear old Hades here? He’s what I suppose might be called a lively character, if he were a man. The first time I set eyes on him he was busy kicking lumps off another poor horse through a gap in the fence between them, and I knew straight away he’d be perfect for me. Just don’t get too close to his hindquarters, because like any good soldier he doesn’t like anybody or anything behind him that he can’t see. And he kicks like a bolt thrower.’

‘The tribune also explained why I can see so many empty saddles in your ranks, Decurion. He suggests that I find thirty riders from my three infantry cohorts, and group them into a sixth squadron. I think I may have an officer with the appropriate skills to lead them, but he’ll need a good double-pay to help him knock them into shape. Do you have anyone in mind?’

Felix smiled easily, nodding slightly.

‘A man with the tact and diplomacy required for turning infantrymen into cavalrymen? Oh yes, Tribune, I’ve got just the man for the job.’

‘Fuck
me
, you lot have got to be pulling my bowstring!’

Decurion Felix’s double-pay man stalked down the line of volunteers with a pained expression, shaking his head unhappily. Tribune Scaurus’s announcement of a requirement for men with riding skills had prompted twenty or so men from each of the Tungrian cohorts to step out of the ranks of their centuries, ignoring the insults and abuse their fellow soldiers had rained upon them, and a similar number of legionaries had volunteered from the 1st Cohort. Marcus had stayed put with his century until Tribune Scaurus had taken him to one side, and bluntly ordered him to volunteer.

‘For one thing, those men are going to need an officer, and you’re probably the only man on the field other than me with anything like proper cavalry training. And for another, just in case I need to remind you, your heroics of yesterday have once again swollen your reputation in the army to the point where the wrong people are going to be asking questions. You’ll be better off out of sight scouting out in front of the main force for a while, I’d say. You can take my man Arminius with you, it’ll be amusing to see him on a horse again, and perhaps he’ll be of some use to you.’

Nodding his understanding with an impassive expression, Marcus had saluted and walked out to join the group of men nervously waiting to see what being a cavalryman was going to mean to them. Double-Pay man Silus gave him an astonished glance before turning back to face the volunteers, recomposing his face into the expression of disgust he’d been wearing before noticing the centurion’s unexpected presence.

‘Cavalrymen? Most of you lot – yourself obviously excepted, Centurion – wouldn’t have been judged fit to shovel shit out of the stables when I joined up. You’re not bloody cavalrymen, you’re just a shower of footslogging mules, and that’s all you’re good for. Come on, there must be some of you that want to fuck off now, and spare me the bother of telling you to bugger off once it becomes clear that you’re all bloody useless? No …?’ He sighed and shook his head with exasperation. ‘Are you sure about this, Decurion?’

Felix nodded tersely.

‘Yes, Double-Pay, and preferably before the three cohorts standing watching us die of boredom.’

Evidently exasperated, Silus beckoned one of the riders forward from the ranks, spoke to him for a moment and then turned back to the volunteers. The cavalryman led his horse out of the squadron’s ranks and stood waiting, the animal bending its neck to crop at the plain’s lush grass.

‘We’ve got forty-seven of you mules, including the officer, and that needs to be reduced to the thirty-one men who’ll be riding instead of footslogging today, since that’s all the horses we have spare after yesterday’s fighting. So, here’s a simple test. All you have to do is get on that horse over there.’ He pointed to the sturdy mount now being held by its rider beside him. The horse was fully equipped, complete with a four-horned saddle and a leather chamfron to protect its snout, the eyes covered with perforated bronze eye guards. ‘She’s a docile enough beast, so I don’t expect she’ll kick too many of you, not unless you climb aboard her like you’re trying to take your pork sword to her after a night in the beer shop. Perhaps you’d like to go first, Centurion, and show the rest of your men what we’re looking for …?’

Marcus gave Silus a long stare, holding his gaze until the other man looked away, before turning to the mare, taking stock of her size and apparent demeanour as he walked over to the animal. He took the bridle from her rider and gently pulled the beast’s head towards him, talking quietly into her ear, and stroking her muzzle gently. Once the animal was apparently comfortable with his presence, he took a slow sideways step towards the waiting saddle, continuing to stroke her neck, talking to the horse in soft tones. Grasping the saddle’s projecting front horn, he vaulted into the saddle, making light of the weight of his armour, and turned to address the watching infantrymen.

‘Soldiers, look closely and you’ll see that I’m deliberately relaxing on to the saddle here, and allowing it to flex under my weight, rather than sitting up stiffly. I’m doing that because that allows these saddle horns to grip my thighs, and that will keep me astride this horse no matter what I might ask her to do. There’s another reason for taking a relaxed saddle as well, if you can manage it, apart from the benefit of actually staying on the horse – if you try to sit up for any sort of time your legs will start to hurt more than you can imagine! Save all that standing up in the saddle stuff for the first time we see some fighting.’

The mare stood quietly, then allowed herself to be encouraged into a sprightly trot around a tight circle before the young centurion swung his leg back over its back and dropped neatly to the ground. Double-Pay Silus nodded his reluctant respect, his mouth twisted into a tight smile.

‘Very good, Centurion, it’s nice to see an officer that understands horses. You’ve got a lovely loose seat, and your mount and dismount were as good as any soldier in the Petriana wing could have managed. I’d like to see you handle a spear up there, mind you, but you’ll do for today. Now, let’s have another one of you mules up here and see what you’re made …’

Marcus’s voice rode over his instructions, harsh enough to raise Decurion Felix’s eyebrow.

‘A word, Double-Pay?’

Silus walked across to where Marcus was waiting for him, a wary look on his face.

‘Centurion?’

‘Come and look at this.’

Marcus took his arm and led him around to the horse’s far side, pointing to the shoulder straps there to disguise his true purpose from the watching soldiery.

‘These men standing around us, Double-Pay, are
Tungrians
.’

The cavalryman frowned, unclear as to this unknown officer’s purpose but unnerved by the harsh tone of his voice.

‘Sir?’

Marcus sighed, shaking his head slightly.

‘As I thought. You haven’t got a clue what you’re dealing with. Allow me to educate you. You will remember, if you’ve been with the Petriana for any length of time, the battle of Lost Eagle?’

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for the other man’s response, which was still bullish, despite a slight uncertainty in his voice, unclear of where this strange and apparently cavalry-trained officer was taking the discussion.

‘It would be hard to forget, Centurion. We took hundreds of blue-nose heads that day, once the fuckers broke and ran. It was bloody wonderful …’

He flinched as Marcus interrupted him again, his eyes wide with barely restrained anger.

‘And do you remember, Double-Pay, sitting on your big fat arse and watching some bunch of dozy mules hold off those blue-noses for an hour or so, before they broke and ran, and you big brave horsemen decided to actually take part in the battle?’

The other man’s face took on a nervous look with the sudden hostility in Marcus’s voice.

‘That’s a bit unfair, Centurion, we …’

‘Not from where my men were standing!’

The cavalryman flinched at the anger in Marcus’s voice. Decurion Felix, standing a dozen paces from them, heard his fellow officer’s angry tones and smiled slightly, taking a sudden interest in the hilt of his spatha.

‘We fought ten times our strength in barbarians to a standstill that afternoon, while the Petriana sat and did nothing to aid us. The Tungrian soldiers standing around you, Double-Pay, spilled blood and lost friends that afternoon, while you sat and waited for us to send them running for you to chase down. You all rode back from that hunt with heads by the half-dozen, but my men were too tired, too damned numb, to take their swords to the corpses of the men they’d killed. Every one of these men has been blooded, Double-Pay, and stared into the eyes of men that could have been their brothers as they died on our iron. They’ve seen more fighting in the last few months than is good for them, I’d say, or good for anyone else that tries to play the fool with them. If your intention here is to humiliate them because they can’t vault into the saddle like a man that’s been practising the trick for the last year, I’d advise you to consider what a man that’s been humiliated, and who has no concern for the consequences of taking revenge for a slight, might consider doing to you once night has fallen across tonight’s camp.’

Silus swallowed nervously, without even being aware of it.

‘I see your point, Centurion. Perhaps I could …’

Marcus nodded, his disgust evident in the curl of his lip.

‘Yes. Perhaps you could, Double-Pay.’

He gestured to the waiting infantrymen.

‘After you.’

The cavalryman gave his decurion a swift glance, finding little in Cornelius Felix’s face to encourage him. He coughed, groping for the right reaction, the words spilling out a fraction too quickly for any of the men gathered around him to be fooled.

‘I think you’re right, Centurion, that strap does appear to be worn. I’ll have the saddler replace it once we rejoin the rest of the wing.’

Marcus nodded magnanimously.

‘Quite so, Double-Pay. And now, you were saying? Time for my fellow infantrymen to take their turn displaying the cavalry mount?’

Silus shook his head decisively.

‘I don’t think they can be expected to perform to that standard, Centurion. A hand up into the saddle, I think, and a quick trot round, that’ll be enough to show me what they’ve got.’

Marcus nodded, shooting a quick glance at Cornelius Felix to find the decurion indicating his own approval, a hint of a smile on his face. He turned back to the volunteers, taking stock of the men from his own cohort who had stepped forward, looking for the chance to become cavalrymen. Lurking among them was a familiar figure, and while Silus took the next man out in front of the group to try his hand with the waiting horse, Marcus strode into the group, tapping the man on the shoulder and pulling him to one side.

‘Scarface? I didn’t know you could ride? In fact, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were determined never to let me out of your sight, no matter what you have to put yourself through. Can you even get up on a horse without falling over the other side and breaking your neck?’

The soldier blushed, but stuck his chest out in response to the challenge.

‘I was born on a farm, Centurion. I learned to ride young. And you’re not going to go charging around the hills with this shower of donkey wallopers without one of us to keep an eye out for you.’

‘Us?’

The soldier blushed a deeper shade of red, his eyes narrowing with something close to, but not quite, righteous anger.

‘You’ve been a bit of a wild one ever since you joined the cohort, Centurion. All summer you’ve been running from one fight to the next, and never a thought for your men, or for the pretty girl that’s waiting for you at Noisy Valley. All the lads that matter in the Ninth Century think you’ve a death wish, and we’ve decided to keep you alive until winter at least. And I’m the only one that can ride …’

He stopped talking, having realised that Marcus was looking over his shoulder, a wry smile creasing his face.

‘Perhaps you are, Scarface. And perhaps you’re not.’

The soldier turned, to find Qadir standing behind him. Marcus raised an eyebrow.

‘And are you another one of “us”, Qadir?’

The Hamian shook his head, giving Scarface a disgusted look.

‘Well done, then, soldier. You’re alone with the centurion for a moment and it seems that you’ve already spilled the beans to him. Go and climb on that horse, and leave us to talk.’

Red faced and abashed, the soldier slunk away to take his place in the queue to mount the long-suffering mare, while Marcus gave his deputy a puzzled frown.

‘So how do you get to walk away from the Ninth so easily, given their lack of an officer?’

Qadir shrugged.

‘I just told the tribune what I can do on a horse. He thought it would be a good idea if I were riding alongside you, so he gave Morban my stick to poke in the soldiers’ backs for a while, and your trumpeter gets to polish Morban’s standard twice a day.’