Simon Scarrow - The Eagle In the Sand

07 The Eagle In the Sand

The main hall in the headquarters building was filled with all the officers who could be spared from their duties. Every other centurion, decurion, optio and standard bearer of the Second Illyrian cohort was present. The senior officers occupied the chairs and benches in the centre of the floor, while the rest crowded along the sides of the room. The men spoke in muted tones and from the doorway Cato noted their anxious expressions. Barely an hour had passed since he and Macro had presented the imperial authority to Scrofa and removed him from command. Since then all sorts of rumours had swept round the fort as the officers were summoned to headquarters. Cato smiled. They would find out exactly what had happened soon enough. The question was, would they accept it? Scrofa and Postumus had been conducted to a cell in the basement of the building and placed under a reliable section of men selected by Centurion Parmenion. They were not going to be allowed to make any case against the new commander, and they were not going to be given access to any of the officers or men of the cohort. Macro had been quite firm about that when he had given Parmenion his orders.

'What's the mood like?' Macro asked quietly from behind him. Cato turned and saw his friend a few paces down the corridor, out of sight of any of the men in the hall. Macro held the imperial authority in his hand, rolled up, and was tapping it against his thigh.

Cato raised his hand to cover his mouth and muttered back, 'Curious rather than disgruntled. I doubt there will be any effective opposition to the takeover.'

'Right.' Macro shrugged his shoulders and drew a deep breath. 'Better get it over with. You can announce me.'

Cato stepped inside the room and stood to attention as he called out, 'Commanding officer present!'

At once every tongue was stilled and nail-soled boots scraped over the flagstones as the officers rose to their feet and stood with their backs as straight as javelin shafts. When all was still and silent Macro strode into the hall and marched to the raised dais at the end of the hall from where the cohort's commander habitually addressed his men. He noted the surprised expressions in some of the faces looking towards him and fought the urge to smile, and thus betray the nervousness which had seized him. The dryness in his mouth and the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach were new sensations to him, and Macro was shocked to realise that he was afraid. This was worse than facing a horde of barbarians armed to the teeth and screaming for his blood. He had grown used to commanding a century of legionaries, or a scratch force of native levies, but these men, these officers, were hardened professionals like himself and Cato, and they would know the standard to judge him by.

He swallowed, cleared his throat and began. 'At ease!'

The sound echoed through the hall, as loud as if it had been bellowed across a parade-ground. But the men instantly relaxed their posture and the senior officers resumed their seats. Then all of them looked to him expectantly.

'Right then, I know there's been some wild speculation so I'll make the situation clear at the outset. Gaius Scrofa has been removed from command of the cohort. Lucius Postumus is no longer centurion and adjutant. That post has been filled by Centurion Cato, while I am now the prefect. This action has been taken according to the power conferred on me by Emperor Claudius.' Macro raised the document, and unrolled it, holding it up so that all the men gathered in the hall could clearly see the imperial seal fixed to the bottom of the parchment. 'This authority is without limit. Any doubters are welcome to have a look at it once the briefing is over.'

Macro lowered the scroll to the table and stared at his officers for a moment before continuing. 'As your new commander, I'd like to begin by saying that this cohort is one of the most piss-poor excuses for a unit that I have ever come across.'

Cato winced. Macro had only just taken command of the Second Illyrian and already he was going all out to offend the very men he needed to win over.

'That's right.' Macro glared at them.'Piss-poor is what I said. And the reason for it has very little to do with all the men out there. They're as good as I could expect a cohort to be, posted out here at the arse-end of the Empire. But you lot?' Macro shook his head. 'You're supposed to lead by example. And what a fine bloody example you've been setting. Half of you have been busy toadying up to Scrofa, so you could take your cut of the racket he was running. The rest of you are little better. Take Centurion Parmenion there. He knew what was going on. What did he do about it? Nothing. Just sat on his arse and pretended to ignore it.'

Cato's gaze flickered towards the old officer and he saw Parmenion lower his head and stare at the ground between his boots.

'Well then, gentlemen,' Macro continued, crossing his arms as he glared at them like a disappointed school-teacher. 'Things are going to change here at Bushir. I'll tell you why. It has nothing to do with the corrupt little scams you were so happy to take part in, though we'll be dealing with that soon enough, as you'll see. No, the reason why things must change is that we are on the verge of witnessing our very own native uprising. All thanks to the former prefect's winning ways with the local villagers, and your willingness to go along with him. As we sit here, Bannus is busy building up a formidable band of followers. What you may not know is that, in all likelihood, he has cut a deal with our Parthian friends who have promised to arm his men.'

This information caused a ripple of anxious murmurs to flow through the officers.

'Quiet!' Macro shouted. 'I did not give you permission to talk.'

The men instantly stilled their tongues and Macro nodded with satisfaction. He was beginning to enjoy this feeling of command. 'That's more like it. So, now I think you can see the scale of the challenge that faces us. It's up to the Second Illyrian to find and destroy Bannus and his brigands, before they grow strong enough to come and destroy us. At the same time, I'll brook no more harsh treatment of the local people.We've already done enough to drive them into Bannus' arms. It's probably too late to win them back on to our side, so we're not going to try. What we will not do is provoke them any further. From now on any man, or officer, who wades into the locals will share the fate of trooper Canthus.You all know what happened to him. Now you know what will happen to any others who follow his example. Make sure your men are aware of that. I'll accept no excuses.We cannot afford to act as recruiting officers for Bannus.'

There were some brief disapproving murmurs and some officers exchanged disgruntled looks, until they realised that the new prefect was glaring at them and fell silent again.

'I am aware that none of what I have said so far is likely to have gone down well with you, gentlemen. That's just tough on all of us.The question is, what are we going to do about it? For my part, I'm going to let you start with a clean slate. There will be no further mention of your corruption or dereliction of duty. So you all have a chance to prove yourselves worthy. You didn't win promotion to the rank you hold today by taking bribes, so all of you must have been good soldiers at one time. That time has come again. In the next few days you're all going to do some hard soldiering.Your men will need the best from you and I will not hesitate to break any slackers back to the ranks.You will all lead by example.You will all lead from the front.' He paused to make sure that they had got the point. 'Right, well, that's it.You know what I require from you.There's plenty of work to do, and you'll receive your orders as soon as possible. One last thing. I noticed that the standard of the Second Illyrian carries no awards. That's going to change. I have never left a unit without adding at least one medallion to its standard.The same applies to this cohort. So let's all do something we can be proud of, eh? Dismiss!'