Britannia (Eagles of the Empire 14)

by Simon Scarrow

Cato was too angry and bitter to trust himself with any remark. He wanted to refute the argument being put to him. He wanted desperately to stand on principle and defy the will of powerful men who decided the fates of others. He earnestly longed for a world in which honour, honesty and achievement counted for more than guile, avarice and ambition. Yet here was the proof that his longing was mere wishful thinking. Despite all he had accomplished, every battle he had fought in and won, every promotion he had earned, he lived on the whim of men like Narcissus and Pallas. They were not even proper Romans. Merely freedmen who had learned how to play their former master like a cheap flute.

‘You’ve seen the officers and the men of the Illyrian cohort. Thoughts?’ ‘If I may speak freely, sir?’ ‘Please do.’ ‘They’re a useless shower. They don’t march in step, they don’t look after their kit and they don’t look after themselves. Some of them are old enough to be my grandad, and others are young enough to be my son. Gods forbid, but if it comes to a fight, the only danger they pose is that the enemy may die laughing at the fucking spectacle presented by Centurion Fortunus and his men. Other than that, they’re a fine body of men who do the emperor proud, sir.’

‘That Placidus is an ambitious fellow. He has the necessary greed and venality to go far in the world.

‘Good luck!’ Livonius called after them. ‘Pftt!’ Crispus sneered. ‘Luck has nothing to do with it. It’s down to steel, grit and years of back-breaking training. Not that he’ll ever have to understand that. Once he’s served out his year, he’ll be off back to Rome and some cushy number looking after the drains or the markets or some such bollocks.’ Cato was well used to the begrudging tone of centurions towards the young men serving out the military phase of their career ladder, and adopted a mocking tone as he asked, ‘Would you want to exchange all the pleasures of soldiering for inspecting the drains of Rome, Centurion?’ ‘Not fucking likely, sir.’ ‘Then let’s get this over with.’