Read Online Marius' Mules V: Hades' Gate by S.J.A. Turney - Free Book Online
Authors: S.J.A. Turney
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crossing has fuelled debate in the senate about my fitness to remain in the post of proconsul of Gaul and, while that gaggle of balding old women in togas do not unduly concern me, they are starting to sway the people; my people; my plebs. I must cow Britannia and chastise them for their interference in our affairs. I will not be bested by an island of barbarians. Besides, if the tribes of Britannia decide to throw in their lot with Gallic rebels we could face a much worse threat than we currently do."
Priscus nodded slowly, aware that this was the sort of frank discussion that the general rarely held. In the old days it would have been Fronto that played the role of listener to such truths. No longer.
"Then we must divide our forces to breaking point to contain Gaul while we deal with their cousins across the ocean, general. It is dangerous."
"One gesture will serve to keep the troublesome Gauls subdued long enough. I will handle the Treveri myself and diffuse the situation for the time being, either by diplomacy or by extermination. Even if we cannot keep them down that way, it will buy me long enough to deal with Britannia. I shall take four legions east. Four will remain here."
Priscus nodded, trying not to betray his true feelings on the subject. Britannia was foolhardy - a publicity stunt to repair the political damage from the failed landings the previous year. But the general had decided, and Priscus knew well enough when to leave matters alone.
"General, I have to broach the subject of transfers and the officers."
"Of course. Go ahead."
Was there a strange twinkle in the general's eye there? Priscus frowned. "With the deepest respect, general, I've kept things running smoother than they had any right to for the past two years and I feel I should have had a hand in the transfer decisions I've been hearing about. It's part of my role here after all."
There was a pregnant pause and a tendril of sweet smelling smoke wafted across between them for a moment, half obscuring the general's face. When it cleared, Priscus was surprised to see the old goat smiling.
"Sir?"
"I have given a great deal of thought to the transfers. It has been difficult to work through, especially without your help, but I feel I have made the best of what I have."
Priscus' eyes narrowed further, a leaden suspicion weighing him down.
"General?"
"You have served excellently as camp prefect, Priscus, and I can see no one who will adequately take your place."
"Take my place?"
"When you take up command of the Tenth."
Priscus blinked and suddenly realised he was on his feet, his finger wagging. Damn it! He would have to make a conscious effort to stop himself turning into Fronto.
"Respectfully, sir, I cannot accept."
"You can. And you will."
"You said yourself that no one will be able to do my job. Legates can be drawn from the nobs in Rome at the blink of an eye. You can have a dozen here in weeks. A camp prefect has to grow through the ranks and learn the trade."
"A dozen callow youths with no military abilities can be here in weeks. But you and I know the value of having seasoned commanders. Yes, the centurionate run the army. Everyone knows this - even the great commanders like Pompey or Crassus who like to say otherwise. The centurions control every battle and I am hardly unaware of the fact, but until said battle is joined, it is the skill of the senior commanders that makes the overall strategy successful. And even beyond that we also both know how much better a legion works with a good commander when stacked up against the bad or the ineffectual ones. Some legates are so bad they're more use staying out of the way, but a good experienced legate can be a boon, and my stock of good officers is running woefully low."
"General, I'm not a patrician or even a gentleman."
"Really?" Caesar raised an eyebrow. "Gnaeus Vinicius Priscus? A man with three names is hardly from peasant stock? I'm aware of the Vinicii down in Campania. You may
Priscus nodded slowly, aware that this was the sort of frank discussion that the general rarely held. In the old days it would have been Fronto that played the role of listener to such truths. No longer.
"Then we must divide our forces to breaking point to contain Gaul while we deal with their cousins across the ocean, general. It is dangerous."
"One gesture will serve to keep the troublesome Gauls subdued long enough. I will handle the Treveri myself and diffuse the situation for the time being, either by diplomacy or by extermination. Even if we cannot keep them down that way, it will buy me long enough to deal with Britannia. I shall take four legions east. Four will remain here."
Priscus nodded, trying not to betray his true feelings on the subject. Britannia was foolhardy - a publicity stunt to repair the political damage from the failed landings the previous year. But the general had decided, and Priscus knew well enough when to leave matters alone.
"General, I have to broach the subject of transfers and the officers."
"Of course. Go ahead."
Was there a strange twinkle in the general's eye there? Priscus frowned. "With the deepest respect, general, I've kept things running smoother than they had any right to for the past two years and I feel I should have had a hand in the transfer decisions I've been hearing about. It's part of my role here after all."
There was a pregnant pause and a tendril of sweet smelling smoke wafted across between them for a moment, half obscuring the general's face. When it cleared, Priscus was surprised to see the old goat smiling.
"Sir?"
"I have given a great deal of thought to the transfers. It has been difficult to work through, especially without your help, but I feel I have made the best of what I have."
Priscus' eyes narrowed further, a leaden suspicion weighing him down.
"General?"
"You have served excellently as camp prefect, Priscus, and I can see no one who will adequately take your place."
"Take my place?"
"When you take up command of the Tenth."
Priscus blinked and suddenly realised he was on his feet, his finger wagging. Damn it! He would have to make a conscious effort to stop himself turning into Fronto.
"Respectfully, sir, I cannot accept."
"You can. And you will."
"You said yourself that no one will be able to do my job. Legates can be drawn from the nobs in Rome at the blink of an eye. You can have a dozen here in weeks. A camp prefect has to grow through the ranks and learn the trade."
"A dozen callow youths with no military abilities can be here in weeks. But you and I know the value of having seasoned commanders. Yes, the centurionate run the army. Everyone knows this - even the great commanders like Pompey or Crassus who like to say otherwise. The centurions control every battle and I am hardly unaware of the fact, but until said battle is joined, it is the skill of the senior commanders that makes the overall strategy successful. And even beyond that we also both know how much better a legion works with a good commander when stacked up against the bad or the ineffectual ones. Some legates are so bad they're more use staying out of the way, but a good experienced legate can be a boon, and my stock of good officers is running woefully low."
"General, I'm not a patrician or even a gentleman."
"Really?" Caesar raised an eyebrow. "Gnaeus Vinicius Priscus? A man with three names is hardly from peasant stock? I'm aware of the Vinicii down in Campania. You may
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