The Governor's Man by Jacquie Rogers (best beach reads TXT) 📕

‘I think they will not get there for another few days, most likely on the fourth day from now.’ He fell silent for a moment, sipping at his wine. The only sound was the faint crackle of coals burning in the brazier. A buffet of breeze made the tent walls wallow, presaging rain coming in from the west. Full dark had fallen, and pressed in behind the flickering oil lamps.

‘So, here is our position. Apart from your company, Marcellus, there are just we two. That limits what we can realistically do. Fortunately the community leaders in Lindinis scuppered the attempt by Fulminata and her cronies to raise rebellion there. I have asked a Lindinis town councillor, Decurion Agrippa Sorio, to raise and arm the Durotriges to follow us in support. But it will take time to muster them, and time to march them to our aid. Neither are they trained or adequately equipped to fight. Is there any other help we can call on, anyone nearby we can rely on to remain loyal to the Emperor?’

Marcellus shook his head. ’No way of knowing, sir. My men are all with me to the end, of course. But they are only a century, though at least an over-sized one. With all my couriers and scouts now recalled, we are 105 men.’

‘107, sir, counting me and the boss!’

Marcellus smiled faintly at Tiro, but the smile was tired and did not reach his eyes. ‘I thought to call out the citizens of Aquae Sulis, who know and value our garrison, I believe. And — well, I wondered, Quintus, whether the two of us could appeal directly to the men of the Augusta legion? The officers are mostly bought and sold, but I would bet the ordinary troops—who always bear the brunt of any fighting—might be open to persuasion. They all worship the Principate, of course, and have sworn their lifelong loyalty to the Emperor. Perhaps they will disobey their officers’ orders, and keep faith?’

Quintus shook his head at that. He feared Marcellus was allowing his sense of what was right to overcome reality. The men would follow the lead of their centurions. And the centurions, the backbone of any legion, would sniff the wind to see which way it was blowing, and vote in favour of the strongest-seeming leader. Right now, that person was whoever had planned this coup. There was only one chance of reinforcement left, a very remote one. There was another legion in Britannia Superior. The XX Valeria Victrix, based at Castra Deva in the far north-west. Could that legion be persuaded to stay loyal and march south to stop the rebellion? Could it be done in time?

Marcellus was doubtful.

‘I know very little of the Deva legate, only that he is quite new in post.  I believe he took over the Twentieth a bare few weeks before our Provincial Governor Trebonius arrived in Londinium. His loyalties are not known to me. His appointment may well have been at the request of the new Governor.’

Quintus nodded. That was often how promotions and appointments happened. It was all about who you knew.

‘Too late anyhow,’ broke in the optio. ‘No chance to alert the Valeria Victrix now. By the time we get a message up to Deva and they march all the way south to us, we’ll be dead and buried. Or food for crows.’

It was a blunt but likely assessment.

‘No point in even thinking about the third British legion at Eboracum. Separate province since Emperor Septimius Severus split Britannia, different Governor, even further away. They won’t get involved in our internal disputes.’

Quintus sighed. For a moment the name of Eboracum took him back to the old days there: to pain and poppy juice; to nights battling drugged visions of the pleading eyes of Flavius; to the smell of rosewater and sunbathed dusty city walls; to long fair hair ruffled by the summer breeze.

A disturbance came from outside the tent. The guard poked his head in.

’Sorry to disturb, sir,’ he said to Marcellus. ‘Message from our vexillation medicus, Anicius Piso.’

‘Yes?’

‘The surgeon was summoned to attend the Legate of the Second Augusta in Isca.’

Marcellus wrinkled his brow. ‘Yes, we know this. The Legate has been ill for some time.’

‘The surgeon reports the Legate has died, sir. He thought you should know.’

‘Is Piso there still?’

‘On his way back to Aquae Sulis, probably arrived by now, sir. His courier said something about needing to be back at the hospital urgently.’

Marcellus waved the man away, and raised a concerned face to Quintus.

‘So we now know for sure our legion’s general had no hand in this plot. I thought it unlikely. He was always a man of honour, but fast losing any ability to command in recent weeks. Someone else of standing in the legion is behind this.

‘What should we do now, Frumentarius? My men are loyal and well-trained, but is it my duty now to lead them into a deathtrap?’

Three pairs of eyes fixed themselves on Quintus. Marcellus looked worried, and upset at the loss of his general; Senecio resigned to obey; Tiro alert and keen.

‘Well, it’s just us and the Aquae Sulis men until Sorio joins us. Let’s use what we have to best advantage.  Marcellus, I suggest sending scouts out along the three main roads. A pair to Corinium to assess the Dobunni mood. One man to report back to us, the other to carry on towards Deva. He is to check along the road north out of Corinium and hopefully discover whether the Twentieth legion has been mobilised. We may not be able to raise the Valeria Victrix ourselves, but we have to know whether anyone else already has.

‘We should also keep an eye on the progress of the Second Augusta from Isca. And finally, I want to know if there is any movement of troops on the east