Read Online Legionary: The Scourge of Thracia (Legionary 4) by Gordon Doherty - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Gordon Doherty
Tags: Historical fiction
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least.
As he said this, Gallus noticed that a thousand-strong unit of infantry had marched into the camp in the man’s wake from the west, four abreast. The Cornutii he recognised straight away, distinguished by the eagle feathers they wore either side of their helms and which their leader had sought to outdo with his bronze wings. Their shields and the amber banner hanging from their eagle standard depicted a twin-headed red serpent, both heads facing each other, as if ready to quarrel. He had seen these men once before, in Constantinople. They were an auxilium palatinum legion, a specialist infantry regiment of Emperor Valens’ inner guard – part of the Praesental Army left behind in Constantinople whilst the rest were garrisoned with Valens on the Persian frontier.
Behind them came the Scutarii. These mounted men wore intercisa helms, scale vests and oiled black cloaks, with shields bearing patterns of concentric red, blue then yellow circles. These fine horsemen were a wing of the emperor’s horse guard – the scholae palatinae. These two crack corps were a precursor to what forces might be mustered here in months to come when the Praesental Armies of East and West came together.
But these two pristine divisions did not excuse the pitiful state of the rest of the camp. Legions of border limitanei and the comitatenses field legions had once been the pride of Thracia. This rabble was a disgrace.
Gallus sucked in a long, slow breath through his nostrils and held Barzimeres’ gaze. ‘I am Tribunus Gallus,’ he noticed Barzimeres eyes flare for an instant at the mention of his equal rank, a chink of fear in there, ‘of the XI Claudia Pia Fidelis. Emperor Valens despatched my men and I at haste to aid the effort in holding back the Goths, pending his arrival early next year. Magister Militum Traianus hastened us here from Constantinople, told us to seek out Magister Equitum Saturninus, the commander of this camp.’
Barzimeres gazed at Gallus for a few moments, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Finally, a complacent look crossed over his face and he gazed past Gallus’ shoulder. ‘Ah, so that’s what you are: another few limitanei?’
Gallus felt his skin prickle as the man went on to bark out orders to unseen others, obviously more important to Barzimeres. He rummaged inside his cloak and produced the scroll Traianus had given him. ‘I have this message detailing our orders . . . ’ he paused in disbelief as Barzimeres heeled his mount round as if to walk it away while he was still talking ‘ . . . a message for Saturninus – your superior,’ at this, Barzimeres’ wandering gaze snapped back to attention.
‘Saturninus is absent, Tribunus,’ Barzimeres sighed hotly as if reiterating some tired point to a recalcitrant child. ‘ I am commander of this camp.’
‘Then you’ll have three cohorts of legionaries ready to repopulate my ranks?’ he finished, holding up the scroll.
Barzimeres’ sunken eyes shrunk further under an agitated scowl. He snatched the scroll and scanned it. ‘Yes, yes,’ he said, waving one hand around. ‘You’ll have your men, Tribunus,’ he said, that haughty look returning. ‘I’ll have them mustered soon enough. It’s difficult to replace a fallen man in the Cornutii ranks. And the Scutarii take years to train. But your limitanei? You can find recruits lurking in any city alley,’ he laughed as if he was sharing a joke. ‘I hear that these days they even recruit the curs who cut off their thumbs in an effort to avoid service!’
Gallus’ stony expression did not falter.
‘You can set up your tent by the riverbank,’ Barzimeres said, his levity fading and his lips growing thin, ‘and you will report to me after evening curfew.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Gallus replied hotly.
At that, Barzimeres clicked his tongue to guide his stallion away, waving his cavalry and infantry units with him towards the eastern edge of the camp, urging them unnecessarily with
As he said this, Gallus noticed that a thousand-strong unit of infantry had marched into the camp in the man’s wake from the west, four abreast. The Cornutii he recognised straight away, distinguished by the eagle feathers they wore either side of their helms and which their leader had sought to outdo with his bronze wings. Their shields and the amber banner hanging from their eagle standard depicted a twin-headed red serpent, both heads facing each other, as if ready to quarrel. He had seen these men once before, in Constantinople. They were an auxilium palatinum legion, a specialist infantry regiment of Emperor Valens’ inner guard – part of the Praesental Army left behind in Constantinople whilst the rest were garrisoned with Valens on the Persian frontier.
Behind them came the Scutarii. These mounted men wore intercisa helms, scale vests and oiled black cloaks, with shields bearing patterns of concentric red, blue then yellow circles. These fine horsemen were a wing of the emperor’s horse guard – the scholae palatinae. These two crack corps were a precursor to what forces might be mustered here in months to come when the Praesental Armies of East and West came together.
But these two pristine divisions did not excuse the pitiful state of the rest of the camp. Legions of border limitanei and the comitatenses field legions had once been the pride of Thracia. This rabble was a disgrace.
Gallus sucked in a long, slow breath through his nostrils and held Barzimeres’ gaze. ‘I am Tribunus Gallus,’ he noticed Barzimeres eyes flare for an instant at the mention of his equal rank, a chink of fear in there, ‘of the XI Claudia Pia Fidelis. Emperor Valens despatched my men and I at haste to aid the effort in holding back the Goths, pending his arrival early next year. Magister Militum Traianus hastened us here from Constantinople, told us to seek out Magister Equitum Saturninus, the commander of this camp.’
Barzimeres gazed at Gallus for a few moments, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Finally, a complacent look crossed over his face and he gazed past Gallus’ shoulder. ‘Ah, so that’s what you are: another few limitanei?’
Gallus felt his skin prickle as the man went on to bark out orders to unseen others, obviously more important to Barzimeres. He rummaged inside his cloak and produced the scroll Traianus had given him. ‘I have this message detailing our orders . . . ’ he paused in disbelief as Barzimeres heeled his mount round as if to walk it away while he was still talking ‘ . . . a message for Saturninus – your superior,’ at this, Barzimeres’ wandering gaze snapped back to attention.
‘Saturninus is absent, Tribunus,’ Barzimeres sighed hotly as if reiterating some tired point to a recalcitrant child. ‘ I am commander of this camp.’
‘Then you’ll have three cohorts of legionaries ready to repopulate my ranks?’ he finished, holding up the scroll.
Barzimeres’ sunken eyes shrunk further under an agitated scowl. He snatched the scroll and scanned it. ‘Yes, yes,’ he said, waving one hand around. ‘You’ll have your men, Tribunus,’ he said, that haughty look returning. ‘I’ll have them mustered soon enough. It’s difficult to replace a fallen man in the Cornutii ranks. And the Scutarii take years to train. But your limitanei? You can find recruits lurking in any city alley,’ he laughed as if he was sharing a joke. ‘I hear that these days they even recruit the curs who cut off their thumbs in an effort to avoid service!’
Gallus’ stony expression did not falter.
‘You can set up your tent by the riverbank,’ Barzimeres said, his levity fading and his lips growing thin, ‘and you will report to me after evening curfew.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Gallus replied hotly.
At that, Barzimeres clicked his tongue to guide his stallion away, waving his cavalry and infantry units with him towards the eastern edge of the camp, urging them unnecessarily with
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