were gravitating towards a larger one. The curly-haired man seemed to be doing a lot of talking.
‘Will they follow orders, Barates? Will they follow me?’
‘I honestly don’t know. A word of advice though: when you address them, speak mainly of the cavalry and relief and the arrival of pay. I must ask, sir – do you have any money? They, we, have received nothing for more than a year.’
‘A little. Not enough.’
Ten of the men were now walking towards the officers’ quarters. Cassius was not surprised to see who led them. Barates had risen and now stood next to him.
‘Who is that fellow? I have already had the displeasure of meeting him.’
‘Yes, I saw. That’s Flavian. Big drinker and a nasty temper when riled.’
With the others spread out behind him, Flavian stalked towards the door, stave in hand.
Cassius retreated as the men came to a halt outside. They spoke in hushed tones, then there was loud crack on the door. Trying to maintain a semblance of calm, Cassius leaned close to Barates.
‘This Flavian. Is he popular?’
‘Not particularly. Actually, I should have said – he and three others are not from the Third Legion. They were originally with the Fourth but got separated from their column during a sandstorm. They arrived a month or so after us. Flavian’s an idiot but the others want answers too and they’ll be happy to let him lead the way.’
There was another crack on the door.
‘If he could be persuaded to cooperate, would the others fall into line?’
‘Possibly. But if that is to be your tactic, then there is another, a man more suited to the role.’
‘Go on.’
Before the veteran could answer there was a third crack on the door, followed by a voice Cassius instantly recognised.
‘We want to speak to you, centurion.’ The last word was laced with sneering disdain.
‘Quickly man,’ Cassius whispered.
‘His name is Strabo. Something of a rogue but well liked and respected by all. Well, most. He’s the guard officer.’
‘That makes him next in command now you’ve no centurion or optio. Why didn’t you mention him before?’
Barates grimaced.
‘Since Petronius’ death he hasn’t taken his position very seriously. He’s a capable soldier, though, and a man open to persuasion.’ Barates got to his feet. ‘I didn’t see him outside but he likes to gamble most of the day. Usually behind the temple – where it’s cool.’
‘Fetch him at once.’
The door ring rattled.
‘And what should I tell them ?’
‘Tell them I will speak to them in the square within the hour. Nothing more. Just get this Strabo over here.’
‘Very well.’
Cassius pointed Simo towards the door. Taking care to remain out of sight, he watched as the Gaul took a firm hold of the metal ring and raised the latch.
‘Well? What’s going on?’ snarled Flavian. ‘Does he have any money?’
Cassius could see a portion of his ruddy face between the door hinges.
‘Allow me to pass and I might tell you,’ said Barates impatiently. Before Flavian could reply, some of the less aggressive soldiers parted to allow the veteran through. Barates spoke as he walked, luring most of the men from the door. Flavian tried to barge his way inside but Simo quickly shut the door in his face.
‘I will allow the centurion to explain,’ the veteran continued, ‘but there is some good news . . .’
Knowing that Flavian would try to look through the window, Cassius slid behind the door. The legionary and several of his acolytes shuffled over to the window and for a moment Cassius feared they might try to climb inside. Then came a bitter curse and the sound of a stave being flung to the ground.
‘Come on,’ spat Flavian. The men moved away towards the barracks.
Cassius slumped back against the door. Sweat trickled from his armpits.
‘Under attack twice already and we haven’t even encountered the enemy yet.’
‘We may have weathered the early storm, sir,’ said Simo. ‘Barates seems
‘Will they follow orders, Barates? Will they follow me?’
‘I honestly don’t know. A word of advice though: when you address them, speak mainly of the cavalry and relief and the arrival of pay. I must ask, sir – do you have any money? They, we, have received nothing for more than a year.’
‘A little. Not enough.’
Ten of the men were now walking towards the officers’ quarters. Cassius was not surprised to see who led them. Barates had risen and now stood next to him.
‘Who is that fellow? I have already had the displeasure of meeting him.’
‘Yes, I saw. That’s Flavian. Big drinker and a nasty temper when riled.’
With the others spread out behind him, Flavian stalked towards the door, stave in hand.
Cassius retreated as the men came to a halt outside. They spoke in hushed tones, then there was loud crack on the door. Trying to maintain a semblance of calm, Cassius leaned close to Barates.
‘This Flavian. Is he popular?’
‘Not particularly. Actually, I should have said – he and three others are not from the Third Legion. They were originally with the Fourth but got separated from their column during a sandstorm. They arrived a month or so after us. Flavian’s an idiot but the others want answers too and they’ll be happy to let him lead the way.’
There was another crack on the door.
‘If he could be persuaded to cooperate, would the others fall into line?’
‘Possibly. But if that is to be your tactic, then there is another, a man more suited to the role.’
‘Go on.’
Before the veteran could answer there was a third crack on the door, followed by a voice Cassius instantly recognised.
‘We want to speak to you, centurion.’ The last word was laced with sneering disdain.
‘Quickly man,’ Cassius whispered.
‘His name is Strabo. Something of a rogue but well liked and respected by all. Well, most. He’s the guard officer.’
‘That makes him next in command now you’ve no centurion or optio. Why didn’t you mention him before?’
Barates grimaced.
‘Since Petronius’ death he hasn’t taken his position very seriously. He’s a capable soldier, though, and a man open to persuasion.’ Barates got to his feet. ‘I didn’t see him outside but he likes to gamble most of the day. Usually behind the temple – where it’s cool.’
‘Fetch him at once.’
The door ring rattled.
‘And what should I tell them ?’
‘Tell them I will speak to them in the square within the hour. Nothing more. Just get this Strabo over here.’
‘Very well.’
Cassius pointed Simo towards the door. Taking care to remain out of sight, he watched as the Gaul took a firm hold of the metal ring and raised the latch.
‘Well? What’s going on?’ snarled Flavian. ‘Does he have any money?’
Cassius could see a portion of his ruddy face between the door hinges.
‘Allow me to pass and I might tell you,’ said Barates impatiently. Before Flavian could reply, some of the less aggressive soldiers parted to allow the veteran through. Barates spoke as he walked, luring most of the men from the door. Flavian tried to barge his way inside but Simo quickly shut the door in his face.
‘I will allow the centurion to explain,’ the veteran continued, ‘but there is some good news . . .’
Knowing that Flavian would try to look through the window, Cassius slid behind the door. The legionary and several of his acolytes shuffled over to the window and for a moment Cassius feared they might try to climb inside. Then came a bitter curse and the sound of a stave being flung to the ground.
‘Come on,’ spat Flavian. The men moved away towards the barracks.
Cassius slumped back against the door. Sweat trickled from his armpits.
‘Under attack twice already and we haven’t even encountered the enemy yet.’
‘We may have weathered the early storm, sir,’ said Simo. ‘Barates seems
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