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Georg did his duty well. He left the market for his boat, then sailed upriver past the stone walls of Castra Vetera until he recognized the oaks of his homeland. From there it was a day’s walk to the king’s hall, where he was welcomed.
A spontaneous feast was thrown at the news. Rutilius was dead, the prophecy broken. He would not be leading the Romans against the Bructeri in the spring, though both kings were sure the Romans themselves would be coming. And dying. The Bructeri would emerge as the prominent tribe among the Rhein, a position once held by the Batavians.
It was the Age of the Bructeri, proud owners of two Roman Eagles, Slayers of Rutilius, and breakers of the Prophecy of Veleda.
It was indeed worthy of a feast. And afterward, back to work. The Romans would come. And both Udo and Ulfrich wanted their people ready for them.
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In the Roman castra along the Rhein was also a feast. It was the Saturnalia, the midwinter celebration of madness that turned worlds upside down. The most junior legionary in each century was made the centurion for a day, while the most junior legionary of the legion was made legate. The legates and tribunes assumed the duties of the legionaries for the day, but the centurions wisely remained aloof- and sober.
Amid the celebration came a summons. The new governor had finally arrived. He came amid a veritable army of auxilia, and this army began to disperse itself along the Rhein and deliver the summons.
An ala of Remi light cavalry, a full cohort of Arvernii archers, and two cohorts of spearmen- one Iceni, the other Nordican- delivered the summons to Noviomagus. Leading the detachment was
tribunus militum Quintus Petillius Cadorus, the long awaited tribune. Rutilius welcomed the newcomers, and had them assigned quarters within the castrum. They would fall under the command of Gnaeus Milus, the prefect, while in garrison. Cadorus and his brother tribune- Aulus Lucanus Strabo, who had been learning legionary life the hard way for the past two months- were to report to the legate. The X Gemina was now officially finished with the Saturnalia.
Marcus Rutilius greeted his tribunes at the door to his quarters, then led them in. The rooms was spacious, but Spartan- a single table, some stools in the German fashion, no Roman-style couches, and absolutely nothing on the walls. Salvius offered the men drinks, which they politely declined, but they did accept the stools set out for them before the commander’s table. Behind the table was a large wooden board hidden beneath a linen sheet.
“Welcome to the X Gemina,” the legate said by way of introduction. “This is a proud legion, with a long and colorful history. It was raised by Gaius Julius Caesar Dictator himself, and fought under his command in Gaul, Britannia, Dyrrachium, Pharsalus, and Munda. In Gaul he named us the X Legio Equestrius and used us as cavalry, and our Aquilifer was the one who jumped off the boat onto Britannia to be the first Roman to set foot on that island.
“Recently, the X Gemina, as it was renamed, served in Hispana, and marched from there to here to quell the Batavian Revolt. It is stationed here, in the castrum built by my II Adiutrix, to watch over the Batavians and to let them see the superiority of Roman ways and help them become proper citizens. We are a good legion, and I tolerate no crap from anyone- including you. Understood?”
Cadorus smiled broadly and nodded, while Lucanus Strabo simply nodded while a look of horror crossed his face. This did not go unnoticed.
“You have a problem with this, tribune?” he asked of the Roman.
“They are Germani, lord,” the tribune said. “They can never be proper Roman citizens!”
Cadorus smacked the boy across the cheek with the back of his hand at the unintended insult. “I am a Briton, tribune, but am a proper Roman citizen as well. I have served Rome for almost a decade as a tribune, a commander of no less than three independent cohorts. Fighting for Rome. Do you think your thin blue blood makes you a better man than I, who have shed thick red blood for your city?”
Lucanus wiped a small trickle of blood from his mouth and gazed upon the new tribune with vicious ice in his eyes.
“My ancestors were praetors and magistrates of Rome, while yours were savages living on the edge of the world!” the Roman replied. “Of course I am a better man than you. I am a Roman!”
“You are also relieved of duty and ordered to return to Rome in disgrace,” Rutilius said bluntly, flatly, and coldly. “I refuse to have that kind of horseshit in my legion. Has this not been beaten into you over the last two months, Lucanus? The legion has no place for discrimination or evil thoughts about fellow soldiers based on their origin. In battle, the only thing you can trust is that the man standing next to you- be he a Briton, a Gaul, a German, a Roman, a Greek, or whatever. You must trust that he will stand and fight and guard your side while you do the same for him. The enemy is the enemy- not your fellow legionaries. Go. Out. And do not return until you learn that simple fact.”
Lucanus rose and stormed out, his young face flushed with rage and shame. Cadorus looked over to the legate with a nod of approval.
“Were you not too hard on the lad, lord?” he asked. “He is young, no more than twenty, and no doubt pampered and spoiled every day of his short life. Dismissal is a heavy burden for one so young.”
“His kind infuriate me,” Rutilius admitted. “But the ruling stands. The legion is no place for a pampered whelp who considers himself above the men he is leading. A lot of good men get killed that way.”
Cadorus nodded. “Aye, lord, it is so.” He looked the legate straight in the eye. “So, lord, what must I say or do to be returned to Britannia in disgrace?”
“Disobey my commands, treat the locals as if they were slaves, rape a few women, steal some goods from the markets,” Rutilius replied offhandedly. “You know, the usual stuff.”
“The lad did none of those, lord,” the tribune pointed out. “He was simply foolish, and bigoted. The slap I gave him was sufficient.”
“You have only just got here, tribune, so you do not know, but there is a standing edict to treat all with respect. He just broke it,” Rutilius corrected him. He cocked his head to one side. “Why do you stand up for him, I wonder? He obviously would be saying simply ‘good riddance’ had it been you who were sent away.”
“I do not like his kind- the haughty nobleman,” Cadorus admitted. “But I am one myself. He must learn tolerance, true, but how better than to soldier side by side with those you despise?”
“As long as he kills no soldier with his stupidity, you are correct,” the legate retorted. “But we are upon the Border here. Civilization ends here and the wilderness begins there. He can have that attitude in Hispana, or Aegyptus or Greece, but along the Rhein or along the Danube it gets good men killed. And maybe himself as well. I will not risk it.”
Cadorus nodded. “You argue your point well, and care for your men. Quintus Petillius Cerealis was correct. I think I will like serving under you, Marcus Rutilius with no Cognomen.”
“You have yet to pass the interview,” Rutilius replied sharply, “but so far I like what I am hearing. Now, tribunus, tell me of your career.”
“I was an Iceni nobleman, who found our queen savaged at Roman hands,” he began. “I hated Romans then, as much as that pompous young ass does we barbarians. I became a warlord among our tribe, and a successful general. It was our tribe which annihilated the six cohorts of Cerealis’s IX Hispana, and almost killed him along with every legionary. We did well, we Iceni, until we cornered Suetonius in a ravine and one of our own spilled sour mash all over our plan of battle with his impetuousness. Our revolt died then, and I ended up a fighting a guerilla war until captured. Oh how I hated your kind then, Roman- evil little men who take what they will by force and strike down with cruel steel all who oppose them.
“Then I met Gaius Julius Classicianus, a Roman and a Gaul. He helped show me the fact that not all Romans were evil like the Worm or heavy-handed like Suetonius. He, then Turpilianus, then Cerealis came and showed me the wisdom Classicianus taught. Rome was like us- only stronger. It had its evil men and wicked ways, but it also had its good men and benevolent ways. I have been a tribune in Rome’s service for seven years now, though a Roman citizen for but three- Cerealis himself granted it to me. I took his name out of respect, added the Romanized form of my own as a cognomen.”
“Battle experience?”
“Plenty as an Iceni warlord,” Cadorus bragged, then sighed. “But very little as a tribune- mostly coastal skirmishes against raiders.”
“Battle experience enough,” Rutilius noted. “And loyal to your fellows, even if they despise you. I have seen enough. Welcome to the X Gemina, Quintus Petillius Cadorus.” The legate turned to Salvius. “Marcus, fetch Lucanus. I think Cadorus here argued well in favor of him. I shall give him a second chance, if he is willing to obey.”
Salvius nodded. “Come with me sir,” he said, and escorted the tribune out. He came back a few minutes later, bringing the other tribune. Lucanus stood sullenly by the desk where Salvius put him, the red mark upon his face still hidden amid the blush. He did not look the least bit repentant. Rutilius sighed.
“Cadorus argued well on your behalf, tribune,” the legate announced. “As such, I rescind the order dismissing you. You will, however, adapt an instant adjustment to your attitude. You came here as tribunus laticlavius- my second in command, a senator in the making gathering experience. You have not impressed me, lad, nor did your performance the last hour raise that opinion at all. However, due to the vigor with which the other tribune defended you, I will give you a second chance.”
Lucanus perked up at that. Some of the sullenness left his features. Slowly, but noticeably.
“You are not suitable for command of this legion,” the legate continued. “And I do not wish something as slender as the thread of my life being between my legionaries and your command of them. Thus I am demoting you to tribunus angusticlavius- military tribune- until such a time as you have demonstrated the proper attitude and ability desired among military men. Cadorus, having served Rome for seven years and thus being senior, will be the tribunus laticlavius. In all dispatches, however, both of you will be referred to as simply tribune. In this manner your current rank will not be a tool used against you in your later, obviously political, career. Do you have any problems with this edict, Aulus Lucanus Strabo?”
Lucanus shook his head. Salvation had come, and from the hands of a barbarian at that.
“Get this straight, Aulus,” the legate continued, his voice softening as he saw the message sinking in. “In this legion, we are all purple men from Gemina. No Romans, no Germans, no Greeks, no Gauls, no Britons. And we are not pale, nor dark, nor Nubian Black, nor Syrian bronze. We are not rich, nor poor, nor noble, not of the Classes, nor Capite Censi. Only Gemini. X Gemini. Those outside this castrum are citizens- not Romans, not Germani, not Batavian. Simply citizens. Do you comprehend this simple concept, tribune?”
Aulus Lucanus felt strong enough now to speak. “Yes, legate,” he croaked, then coughed and repeated in a stronger voice, “Yes, Legate!”
“Good. Palla tells me your swordsmanship is horrible but improving slowly. He also says you are a good rider, and better with the pilum than is he. I assume you can write?” A nod affirmed it was so. ”Good. Work on your swordsmanship- it will save your life one day. And do not be afraid to march among the men. They will respect more a tribune who shares their toils than a haughty, aloof slave driver. If it was good enough for Caesar himself, it is good enough for me and my officers.”
Lucanus nodded. “Aye, lord. I shall endeavor to do better.”
Rutilius nodded. “To your quarters, Aulus. Think over what was said here, and take it to heart. Go on, off with you.”
Lucanus thumped his fist over his heart and departed. He was scarcely out the door when the centurions- the twelve most senior ones- knocked and entered.
“What is this about, Top?” he asked of Palla. “The senior centurions against the legate- is this a mutiny?”
Palla laughed. “You know better than that, sir. There is not a man in this legion that would not follow you through the sands of the Sahara to cross the crocodile-infested Nile at flood to burn the depths of Germania and go back again the same way. Its about these auxilia, sir.”
Rutilius groaned. Not another discussion about origins and discrimination!
“You requested them, because we were the only legion in the province without any,” Palla recounted. “We had the VI Vascon Mixed Auxilia for a while, but some bright-eyed governor decided to take them away and make them a garrison over in Traiectum.”
Rutilius grinned. “Guilty as charged.”
“A good call, as it turned out,” Palla continued. ”It protects our flank. Now to the matter at hand. You requested spearmen and archers, and cavalry. We got in two cohorts of spearmen, a half-ala of horse, more archers than requested, and two garrison cohorts that we didn’t even ask for. Just like that. We’ve been in the army for a long time now, sir, and know how it works. You order twice what you want, and sometime a year or three down the line you get half of what you ordered. Even here on the Border. Yet you got what was requested, more than was requested, and all within a few months. Our first load of auxilia was hijacked, but we got more replacements really fast.”
“Your point? Besides my efficiency?”
The humor fell flat. “The point is sir, that this many troops are not released to legions that fast unless we are going to war. You had me train these men to the best they’ve ever been. I am still working on it- the new guys still can’t build a proper camp, though they can march through mud up to their chins. So my question to you- are we going on the campaign trail against the Bructeri? Have you pulled your senatorial strings for personal vengeance?”
Rutilius stood now, all humor receding fast. Palla had a point- he got his requests awfully fast, given army bureaucracy. He had thought it a favor from Saturninus at first, but the second load- from far away- came mighty fast. Not even Saturninus with his connections can move troops that fast. And the timing... Jupiter and Mars, it did look like he was preparing a war for personal vengeance!
“I share your concerns, Top, and you other centurions,” he stated flatly. “But I have no plans. You of all people should know that! My only concern- then and now- is keeping the peace and repelling invaders. We- both of us- saw what this legion lacked to perform that task and requested it, long before that blade tasted my blood.”
He turned with open hands to the other centurions. “You men know my honesty. I say to you now- I have no plans other than maintaining this post and carrying out the orders given to this legion. And those orders are to maintain the peace in this region. I shall not exceed the authority given in those orders.”
The centurions looked at each other, then at Palla, who nodded. “All’s plus, legate,” the centurion nodded, then added, “Its not that we don’t trust you sir. Pluto’s Freezing Nuts, sir, we would follow you anywhere, as said before. Even if it was to punish those bastards for trying to stick you under the turf. Its just that having steel try to eviscerate a man... It sometimes affects a man’s judgment. Legates who think poorly are really bad for a legion.”
“I agree,” the legate replied evenly. “It does seem suspicious, but it is not of my doing. I will be leaving tomorrow to meet with the new governor in his headquarters at Novaesium. Maybe he has plans of which we do not know. You will know when I get back, Top. All of you.”
“Novaesium, and not Vetera? Or even here?” the top centurion cried. “Is he stupid?”
Rutilius laughed as he remembered himself saying almost the same thing to Saturninus in the late summer. “I haven’t met him yet, Top. Or even know who he is.”
“Take the Remi with you, legatus,” Palla suggested. “They need to learn the countryside- even if it is just to Novaesium, and you need an escort. Those bastards who tried to bleed you, them Bructeri- they live a ways across the river from here, but have ties with the Tencteri and Marsi across from there, sir. Stay alert, stay alive. And have a good ala with you.”
Rutilius nodded at the wisdom and had the primuspilus pass on the order.
The following morning he rode out, the Ala X Gallia Remia at his side. The track led down the hill from the castrum, into the heart of Noviomagus, then turned east to follow the river. The Remi negotiated the track well, handled the turn before the market well, but stopped just outside the east gate and formed up for battle. Rutilius rode through the forming ranks before pulling up sharply himself to evaluate the eighty Batavian horsemen formed for battle before him.
Claudius Victor was in their center, obviously their commander. Rutilius narrowed his eyes and had his horse edge closer.
“What is the meaning of this, Claudius Victor?” he shouted.
“We are your Batavian Guard, lord,” the man next to Victor replied. Rutilius remembered the wound of Victor, and the resultant lack of loud voice. “Whenever you leave the castrum, we shall be with you. Wherever you travel, we follow. You shall not go to Valhalla, lord, until you are old. We have so sworn.”
Rutilius choked down a laugh when he saw the seriousness of the Batavians. He rode closer, waving the Remi back. Claudius Victor rode forward, his voice beside him.
“I know you,” Rutilius said as he saw the man riding beside Victor. “Vetera, the last battle. You led our cavalry into the German rear to give me the victory.”
“Aye,” replied the rider. His back was incredibly straight- a result of a wound earned in Rome’s service. “You have kept your bargain, Rutilius, and argued a fair peace for all. Now someone wishes to remove you and that peace. Me and these men would stop them.”
Rutilius looked to Victor, who shrugged. “They are all veterans, from one side or the other. Volunteers, though you are paying them.” To an inquisitive look, he continued, “You need a senatorial income, lord, as you said. Your farms and ranches are now producing that. But you said nothing about having to keep that income. I thought it a wise investment to raise this warband for your safety, and they consider it an honor to serve you. Dieter Straightback here is their commander, I am merely the paymaster.”
“Eighty warriors? Is that not a bit excessive for a legate’s guard?”
“A legate, maybe, but not for a senator,” Victor replied. “Some of those fools- no offense, lord- bring armies of ex-gladiators when they visit. Eighty good warriors- all veterans- who are sworn to you, in exchange for a horse, weapons, and upkeep- is quite a bargain and well within reason.”
Rutilius had to agree. One senator, travelling recently, had an entourage of over two hundred souls- mostly gladiators. Another had three hundred people, but many of those were women. Yet another traveled with a retinue that included an entire circus. And two attempts on his life made a difference. These men wanted him alive, others dead. He would accept the eighty.
“They are quartered on the farm to the east of town,” Victor continued, ”under the ramparts of your castrum. You bought that, by the way, as a horse breeding ranch. Ten of us are always in the market, in case you feel the urge to buy more arrows from another spy. We would have escorted you through the market and town ourselves, but did not see you until the first three turmae were past- and then we raced to meet you. Do you approve of my expenditures, lord?” he added with a broad grin.
Rutilius nodded, his face flushing with a mixture of embarrassment- and pride.
“Fall in around me,” he ordered. “Dieter, tell off four of your veterans to work with the Remi decurions. I want this Roman cavalry to be as good as the Batavian cavalry.”
“It will never be,” laughed Dieter, even as he pointed to four men and motioned for them to go. “We are Batavian, and they are not. But we shall do our best anyway, lord!”
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