Conn Iggulden - The Death Of Kings

He gritted his teeth. The ones who had already joined would attract more to those eagles. By now, he imagined people asking what was wrong with Primigenia that no one wanted to join it. Hands would cover mouths and they would whisper with puerile excitement of the traitor legion. He cleared his throat and spat on the sandy soil. The testing finished at sundown and there was nothing to do but stand and wait for it to end, hoping perhaps to pick up a few stragglers as the light faded. The thought made him burn with embarrassment. He knew if Marius were there, he would have been walking amongst the young men, cajoling, joking, and persuading them to join his legion. Of course, back then there had been a legion to join.

Brutus resumed his sullen appraisal of the crowd, wishing he could make them understand. Three young men wandered toward his standard and he smiled at them as welcomingly as he could.

“Primigenia, is it?” one of them said.

Brutus watched as one of them hid a smile. They were here for sport, he guessed. For a fleeting instant, he considered knocking their heads together, but he controlled himself, sensing the eyes of his ten men on him. He could feel Renius bristle at his side, but the older man kept his peace.

“We were the legion of Marius, consul of Rome,” he said, “victors in Africa and all over Roman lands. There is a glorious history here, for the right men who join us.”

“What's the pay like then?” the tallest said, with a mock-serious tone.

Brutus took a slow breath. They knew the Senate set the pay for all legions. With Crassus to back him, he would have loved to offer more, but the limit was there to prevent wealthy sponsors undermining the whole system.

“Seventy-five denarii, same as the others,” he replied quickly.

“Hold on, Primi genia ? Weren't they the ones who smashed the city up?” the tall boy asked as if he had been given a sudden revelation. He turned to his grinning friends, who were happy to let him give the show.

“It is!” he said, delighted. “Sulla broke them, didn't he? They were led by some traitor or other.”

The tall one paused as he caught the change in his friends' expressions, realizing he had gone too far. As he turned back, Brutus swung his fist, but Renius blocked the blow with an outstretched arm. The three young men all flinched at the threat, but their leader quickly recovered his confidence, his mouth twisting into a sneer.

Before he could speak, Renius stepped in close to him. “What's your name?”

“Germinius Cato,” he replied haughtily. “You will have heard of my father.”

Renius turned to the soldiers behind him. “Put his name down. He's in.”

The arrogance faded into amazement as Germinius watched his name inked onto the bare scroll.

“You can't do that! My father will have your-”

“You're in, boy. In front of witnesses,” Renius replied. “These men will swear it was voluntary. When we dismiss you, you'll be free to run and tell your father how proud you are.”

Cato's son glared at the older men, his confidence surging back. “My name will be off that scroll before sundown,” he said.

Renius stepped close to him again. “Tell him Renius took the name. He'll know me. Tell him you'll always be known as the boy who tried to back out of serving the city in the legions. He'll be destroyed if something like that gets out, wouldn't you say? You think you'll follow in his footsteps after shame like that? The Senate doesn't like cowards, boy.”

The young man paled with anger and frustration. “I will…” He paused and a terrible doubt crept into his face.

“What you'll do is stand by this eagle until we're ready to give you the oath. Until I'm told different, you're the first recruit of the day.”

“You can't stop me leaving!” Germinius replied, his voice cracking.

“Disobeying a lawful order? I'll have you whipped if you take another step away from me. Stand to attention before I lose my patience!”

The bark of an order held Germinius in impotent rage. Under Renius's eye, he drew himself straight. At his side, his friends began to edge away.

“Your names!” Renius snapped, freezing them. They looked mutely at him and he shrugged.

“Mark them down as legionaries two and three of the day. That will serve, now I know your faces. Stand straight for the crowd, boys.” He turned to the soldiers of Primigenia behind him for a moment, ignoring their amazement.

“If they run,” he said clearly, “I want them dragged back and flogged on the field. It'll cost us a few recruits, but the others might as well see there's a hard side to all that glory.”

The three young Romans faced the crowd stiffly, and Renius looked surprised as Brutus drew him a few steps out of their hearing.

“Cato will go berserk,” Brutus muttered. “Of all legions, he won't want his son in this one.”

Renius cleared his throat and spat on the dusty grass of the field. “He won't want him branded a coward, either. It's your choice, but you'll gain nothing by letting them go now. He may try to buy you off or he may endure it. We'll know in a day or two.”

Brutus looked closely at the old gladiator and shook his head in disbelief. “You've forced this on me now, so I'll see it through.”

Renius glanced at him. “If you'd hit him, his father would have killed you.”

“You didn't know who he was when you stopped me!” Brutus retorted.

Renius sighed. “I taught you better, lad, I really did. What else should I think when a boy wears his father's crest on a gold ring big enough to buy a house with?”

Brutus blinked at him, then walked over to the three new recruits and examined Germinius's hand for a moment without speaking. He was about to return to Renius when three more boys detached from the crowd and approached the Primigenia eagle.

“Sign your names on the scroll there and stand with the others, lads,” Renius told them. “We'll give you the oath when there's enough of a crowd.” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he waved them over.

Between the heat of Greece and the excuses, Julius was finding it hard to keep his temper. He was desperate for recruits, but the walled Roman city had forgotten its founding duty and every demand was met with delay and discussion.

“I have the young men. Now bring out the veterans,” Julius said to the city elder.

“What? Would you leave us defenseless?” the man spluttered in indignation.

Julius remained silent, waiting a few moments before replying, as Renius used to. He'd found the small pauses gave weight to his words like nothing else.

“My men are going directly from here to attack Mithridates. There is no one else for you to defend against. I do not have time to train more farmers to be legionaries, and from what you say, there is no other Roman force within a hundred miles of here.

“Every man within these walls who has ever held a sword in service of Rome, I want out here, armed and armored as best you can.”

The besieged elder began to speak again and Julius interrupted him, raising his voice slightly. “I do not expect to have to mention the conditions of their retirement. It would be an attack on their honor for me to remind them that they were given land on the understanding that if Rome called them, they would answer. She calls. Fetch them out.”

The elder turned away, almost running back to the council hall. Julius waited with his men standing to attention at his back. He had suffered enough of the council's delays, and part of him had no sympathy at all. They were in a conquered land and the constant worry of rebellion had occurred. Did they expect to sit it out behind their fine walls? He wondered what might have happened if Mithridates had reached them first. Hardly worth betting that they would have declared loyalty to him out of fear for their families, throwing open the gates and kneeling in the dust.