Knight of Rome Part II Read online

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good; now, Aldermar, everyone present knows in what high esteem I hold our cavalry but there is a problem. It is one of language. I tell you frankly that those of your men who believe they speak Latin are largely deluded. We rely on you, our prefect, to relay any complex operational commands and interpret vital intelligence the cavalry may have discovered. Therefore, I propose to appoint Otto Longius as Principal Decurion. His Latin is now fluent and that may be of tactical importance. Effectively he will act as your second in command once you can confirm that he is fully trained. Your thoughts would be appreciated.”

  They all looked at Aldermar who sat in silence for while, considering the legate’s words.

  “Sir, it would be of great assistance to me to have a reliable deputy and I take your point in respect of the language but a lot depends on how Otto responds to the demands that will be made on him. May I tell you on the first day of September of next year at the latest whether or not I believe your suggestion is in the best interests of the legion?”

  “Eminently reasonable; now you two, tell us what you got up to in Rome.”

  Lucius thanked Tertius profusely for the family information he had given him.

  “I repeated it to the Emperor,” he said, noticing a sudden shadow fall over Tertius face, “but I made no mention of your name or any hint of how I came by it.”

  Tertius smiled and said that thanks were unnecessary.

  Otto was cajoled into standing up and performing his formal address to Augustus. They laughed until the tears filled their eyes.

  “It wasn’t that funny,” Otto complained as he sat down.

  “Friend Otto, it truly was,” Titus told him.

  “I paid a tutor good money to learn that off him.”

  “You should have asked him for your money back before you left Rome.”

  “That’s what the Emperor said,” Otto replied to a further burst of guffaws.

  “I was given a purse out of which I am charged to pay for Otto’s equipment and a horse,” Lucius told everyone.

  “But Boxer, I have a horse,” Otto said.

  “Yes, and a good horse too,” Aldermar responded. “But you need a warhorse; a stallion strong enough to carry your armoured weight all day long and trained to use his teeth and hooves to defend himself and his rider. We’ll look for one together and have a word with Uncle Martellus as well…”

  The party went on for three hours in good spirits and comradeship. As they were all leaving, Quadratus looked at Otto and Lucius with a sigh.

  “Do not think, you two, that Augustus will say to himself, “Well, they were a couple of fine young fellows,” and then forget you. He will not. You have been favoured by the Emperor’s regard; he knows your ranks, your legion and where you serve. Be aware of this for the rest of your careers and make sure you are worthy of the interest he has shown in you.”

  The next morning, they returned to garrison duty.

  Otto reported to Aldermar to begin his training.

  “You’ll have to do something with your hair,” Aldermar told him. “Your head is shaven on one side and long on the other. No helmet is going to sit straight and stay on that. Your choice, decurion, either cut it short like a Roman or grow it long on both sides.

  The cavalrymen preferred mail shirts to the new armour. They needed flexibility in the saddle and arm protection. However, Lucius was honour-bound to equip Otto, so they settled on a parade set of lorica segmentata fabricated in mild steel chased in silver with a helmet to match. Felix was overjoyed at having something new to polish to perfection, especially since the armour was for dress purposes and unlikely to be dented or scratched. The horse proved more problematical. Aldermar and Martellus put the word about and soon every day brought a hopeful trader to the gate with yet another possible mount that was invariably rejected. The horses were too old, too young, too small, too heavy and sometimes ridiculously unsuitable. Aldermar had harsh words for one of the hopeful sellers of horse flesh when he appeared with a mare.

  “What do you not understand?” Aldermar shouted one day, annoyed at being called away to inspect the animal. “Is that a stallion?”

  “No sir, but I assure you she has a very bad temper; she kicks and bites all the time…”

  One morning he was called to the gate to look over yet another possibility. A slender, dark-haired man wearing a full-length, hooded robe stood with his arms folded in in front of two grooms each of them holding one rein attached to the headstall of a black horse. The man unfolded his arms and bowed.

  “I am Rashid,” he said and then gestured to one of his men who flicked the blanket off the horse’s back.

  What was revealed nearly took Aldermar’s breath away. The stallion was tall and deep-chested with a long body. Its muscular hindquarters tapered to firm thighs and strong legs. The arched neck thickened as it flowed down into the chest. The head was well-proportioned with generous, alert ears and large, liquid eyes which gazed back at Aldermar with an expression of curiosity, its mane and tail were full and long. Aldermar walked around him searching for some flaw but there was none.

  “Please wait,” he said and sent for Otto and Martellus.

  Martellus took a long time to survey the animal. When he had done, he said nothing but simply nodded at Aldermar. Otto put one hand under the horse’s muzzle and spoke to it softly letting his breath blow into its nostrils which opened and closed as it snuffed his scent. He nodded his handsome head and pricked his ears forward as if to hear this strange man’s voice better.

  “Let us see him move,” Martellus demanded,

  At a nod from Rashid, one of the grooms led the great horse into a walk and then a trot. The stallion stepped high and arched his neck, dancing over the packed earth.

  “What do you think of him, Otto?”

  “I think we should send for Lucius; he has the Emperor’s purse.”

  “His price is five pieces of gold,” Rashid told Lucius.

  “Oh, no, far too much; I can buy a good horse in Luca for one gold piece, a racehorse for two…”

  Rashid smiled and bowed. “He is almost four years old and of the race of the heavy, tall horses of these northern lands but mixed with the blood of Spain and Africa to give him fire. We are a long way from Luca, young sir and he is more than a mere racehorse, a rich man’s toy. You have heard his price.”

  Lucius looked at Aldermar for guidance but his face was deliberately expressionless. Martellus seemed to be silently urging him on. Otto was looking at the horse as if he had found a long-lost friend.

  Lucius counted out the five coins. Rashid tested each of them before they vanished into one of his pockets.

  “Who will be his rider?” he asked. Otto indicated that he would. “If he loves you, he will carry you until his heart bursts. Treat him like the noble creature God has made him.”

  “Does he have a name?” Otto said.

  “He is called “Djinn”. It means a spirit of the wild places.”

  Djinn’s back and girth were measured and a fine saddle made for him. Lucius regarded the commission given him by Augustus as completed. He deposited the remainder of the gold coins in the legion bank.

  At the end of September, the lucky few legionaries chosen for leave and some of the officers left in a body. Quadratus reduced the number of soldiers permitted to return to their homes by half as compared with last year. Titus Attius said going anywhere was pointless in his case as he had no family and nowhere to stay. Cestus Valens now had sufficient faith in Lucius to leave his precious artillery pieces in his care. Rufus Soranus rode out but Quadratus elected to stay over winter. Tertius Fuscus also took leave, on the legate’s insistence. The reduced garrison settled down to the hard labour of preparing for the cold and snow soon to come.

  In the middle of October, Otto and Lucius were called into the legate’s outer office.

  “A package for each of you, from Rome,” he told them and pointed at two wrapped boxes on one of the clerk
’s desks.

  He was far too well-mannered to show any curiosity but it was obvious he wanted to know what they contained.

  “May I open it here, sir?” Lucius asked innocently.

  Quadratus waved a hand airily as if to say it made no difference to him. Lucius tore the cloth cover away. Inside was a polished box in which twenty scrolls in individual tubes were lined up. There was also a letter.

  “To the Noble Tribune Lucius Taurius Longius, Greetings,

  I am instructed to send you the enclosed books. We are advised that they are the best works available on the subject of military engineering.

  The Emperor requires you to study them assiduously. When you are confident that you have thoroughly grasped the knowledge they have to impart, you are to write to me so that I may inform the Emperor that you have carried out his wishes.

  Menities.”

  Lucius passed the letter to Quadratus who read it and whistled.

  “It appears Augustus has plans for you, Boxer. I told you he forgets nothing and no-one, did I not?”

  “You did, sir. I wonder what he has in mind?”

  “No point worrying about it. Time will reveal all. You now have something to occupy your mind on these long, dark evenings to come. Might be best to send a brief note to Menities to acknowledge receipt.”

  Otto opened his package. It was also a polished wooden box but filled with straw. He lifted off the top layer. Forty perfect figs nestled in the remaining packaging like eggs in a nest. There was a note.

  “To My Loyal Equestrian Otto Longius who had never seen a fig, Greetings.

  Fruits from my orchard. Share them with your comrades. Eat too many at your peril.

  Augustus Imp.”

  Lucius and Quadratus read the note while Otto picked up one of the purple fruits and sniffed it. It smelled a little like honey. Lucius showed him how to peel the skin back with his fingernails and suck up the rich pulp inside.

  “It’s good,” he said. “Here, take one Boxer, and you sir,” he offered.

  Two figs each later, Quadratus suggested that was enough for one day.

  “Augustus wasn’t joking when he warned you to go steadily with them. If you overindulge, you’ll spend the night in the latrines.”

  Otto thought he should write a thankyou letter but hesitated to take anyone’s advice. Paying for public speaking lessons before his audience in Rome had resulted in farce. No, he would write respectfully in his own words.

  “To Emperor Augustus, Greetings.

  Thank you for the box of figs. They are very sweet and good. I am eating only two every other day on the advice of Legate Quadratus. I have shared some of them, as you told me.

  Tribune Lucius Taurius Longius has bought me a warhorse, a saddle and bridle with the money you gave him for the purpose.

  Prefect Aldermar and Farrier Martellus both say they have never seen a finer stallion. He is black and called “Djinn” which means something like “wild spirit” in an Eastern language unknown to me.

  I have now taken the soldier’s oath and am being trained in the duties of a cavalry decurion.

  I am very grateful for the goodness you have shown me sir. I shall do my best to serve you as one of your loyal soldiers and I am always ready at your command.

  Otto Longius.”

  Augustus read it with a smile. “File it under “Personal Correspondence - Friends”; it reads like a letter from a country cousin,” he told Menities.

  Chapter 2

  Felix took charge of the boxes in which the Emperor’s gifts had arrived and added them to his collection of objects to be brought to a daily shine. He treated them as almost religious artefacts. Had they not been touched by the hands of Augustus?

  “You can use them to keep small, valuable objects in.”

  “We don’t have any,” Otto objected

  “Yes, you do. There’s the letter from the Emperor to start with,” Felix told him.

  “And there’s my letter from Menities,” Lucius added.

  “Yes, well, he’s very important I dare say but he’s still only a secretary….” Felix replied, sniffily.

  Otto now occupied the billet next door to Lucius. He had been summoned to the legate’s office and given a dressing down.

  “I will not have one of my officer’s sleeping out on a porch all winter long. Gods, you are living like a wild animal and even they have the sense to find a cave or hole to crawl into. Enough of it; it’s a bad example to the men. Get your own quarters and begin to behave in accordance with your rank. If it’s too warm for you indoors, leave the shutters wide-open for all I care but no more of this behaviour, Decurion Longius. Dismissed!”

  Not that Otto spent much time in his rooms. His training had begun in earnest. He had thought he was a fair horseman but Aldermar soon destroyed that illusion. Otto had to learn to ride with a spear in one hand, an oval shield in the other, and guide Djinn by the pressure of his knees. He had to gallop at a straw dummy on a pole, thrust at it and recover his spear as he rode past. More than once he crashed to the ground when the spear-blade jammed in the strawman and yanked him from the saddle. But the bruises and saddle-skinned buttocks did not deter him and he began to make progress.

  Then he had to learn the bugle calls; a separate group of notes for all commands, advance, fall-back, wheel-left, wheel-right and the infinite variations to keep a body of horsemen acting as one on the field of battle. The day arrived when he was allowed to lead out his own command; a “turma” of thirty-two cavalrymen. They lined up on the open ground leading down to the Rhine. Aldermar watched as the bugler by his side blew his first notes. At the head of his men, Otto used his spear as a pointer and they began to follow him, moving in complex patterns in response to the calls. When the exercise was over. Otto trotted up and saluted. He was very pleased with himself.

  “That was pretty to watch, Decurion Longius. As a parade-ground exhibition, it was near perfect. Well done,” The prefect told him then grinned. “Same place, same time tomorrow, that’s all.”

  The grin had made Otto uneasy.

  When he rode out the next day, two centuries of infantry were deployed on the training ground, facing each other one hundred paces apart. Aldermar took up his position, the cavalry calls were blown. Otto and his men began. That is when the legionary ranks erupted in a cacophony of noise. The men thumped on their shields with sticks, they shouted and yelled. Their centurions and optios blew their whistles and yelled orders. Otto faltered. It was difficult to pick out the sound of his own commands over the din. Then, to make it worse, the infantry buglers began to blow their calls. The turma disintegrated from two lines of well-spaced horsemen into a mob but Otto did not give up. He shouted at his men, signalled with his spear and bullied them back onto formation before raggedly completing the exercise.

  He was crestfallen as he made his way over to Aldermar, expecting some sort of sarcasm at the least but he was pleasantly surprised.

  “Well, done, Decurion,” the prefect told him.

  “It was a shambles,” Otto replied.

  “Yes, pretty shambolic but you completed the manoeuvres and that’s the main thing. Imagine a whole legion in battle and the noise of the enemy screaming war cries, ten times, a hundred times worse, but you still have to pick out the sound of your buglers. Not a bad day’s work all the same. Get your men in, see to the horses and we’ll talk in my office. Oh, by the way, you owe those two centuries a big drink each for coming out in the cold to assist in the training. It’s traditional.”

  Aldermar was sitting in the booth partitioned off one of the stables that he grandly called his “office” when the crestfallen Otto entered.

  “Sit down Otto and don’t look so glum You did well; no-one has ever finished the course with all that racket in their ears the first time of trying until today. Have a cup of wine and cheer up.”

  Otto managed a half-smile and took the proffered cup. Aldermar ginned. Otto recognised it and inwardly groaned.

 
“Here’s a question for you. How many bales of hay and what weight of corn will one hundred horses go through in a month?”

  “I don’t know,” Otto replied.

  “Neither do I but your answer should have been better than a straight, “don’t know”. You might have asked what the season of the year was; if it’s summer, will they have grazing to supplement their rations? What quality of hay, how old? Is the grain mixed or all one variety, are there any beans in it? Are the horses on active service in the field? You are improving as a cavalry-officer much quicker that I’d thought you would but there’s more to it than riding and fighting. You must study the administration involved in keeping men and horses in peak condition with minimum wastage. Starting tomorrow, you’re going to spend a lot of your time with Uncle Martellus, the blacksmiths, the saddlers and most of all, the quartermaster. Good luck with him; he’s not a friendly man. Conniving, lying soldiers have soured his attitude to his fellow men.”

  Lucius was not idle during this period. He and Titus Attius had been summoned by Quadratus. They sat in his inner office; no snacks or wine this time. The legate was grim. He launched into his speech without any pleasant preliminaries.

  “My information from the general staff is that there is no doubt that our new acquaintances the Marcomanni are preparing to launch a concerted campaign against the Roman military presence on the German border. We are situated just within Belgic lands with Raetia to the east of us. We are isolated. It would take ten days march to join the bulk of our army group, eight days without heavy transport and four by cavalry alone. The Marcomanni have tried to destroy this legion with a combination of subterfuge and violence. They did not succeed but they will try again. I believe an attack in force against us is probable. We need to prepare, gentlemen, and I need your support. Ideas, please.”