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

been spilt. If you immediately stand down and return to your base with new officers appointed by me, I will spare the legion decimation, break-up and obliteration. I will not punish the enlisted men if the rebellion ends right now. Those of your officers who took bribes — I know who they are — may have their inevitable sentences as traitors commuted to dismissal from the army if they co-operate with my investigation.’

The Procurator looked calmly at Trebonius and Labienus. Trebonius was red-faced now. He began yelling obscenities and drew his sword. Somehow the even voice of Rufinus rose above Trebonius’s protests, compelling in its certainty.

‘You, the ringleaders of this deadly conspiracy, cannot expect the same mercy. It will be for the Emperor and the Senate of the People of Rome to determine your fates.’

Trebonius shouted, ‘You’ll die for this, Rufinus!’ Quintus, his own blade drawn, immediately stepped between the furious former Governor and the man about to succeed him. Tiro himself felt so angry he knew he would have killed Trebonius on the spot. But Quintus was a Roman officer, and due process must be observed. He merely held the point of his gladius to Trebonius’s throat. Tiro was impressed with his boss’s control.

While Rufinus was speaking the Twentieth legion had moved in, led by their legate. Five thousand men proudly wearing the sign of the boar poured off the road from Deva, surrounding the men of Isca. A squad of four marched smartly up to the Procurator, saluted, and then at his signal pinioned ex-Governor Trebonius.  His uniform and sword were stripped from him and he was manacled and left shivering in his tunic. Cassius Labienus was likewise arrested and put in irons, and both men were led away.

‘Frumentarius, there is much I need to discuss with you,’ the Procurator said to Quintus, with a slight smile as he got back into his litter.  ‘I know you need medical attention and rest, but I’d be very obliged if you would brief me later. I hope this will not be inconvenient? I shall be staying here in the city, and will send for you. Bring your stator.’

The pale man limped, and for the first time Tiro noticed that one foot was twisted and mis-shapen. He had seen children with similar deformities in Londinium, usually begging in the gutters and rarely surviving long. He wondered at this man who had overcome so much to rise to the top position in the Province. Quintus beckoned to Marcellus as Rufinus’s slaves helped him up into the litter.

‘Sir, if I may, I’d like to introduce my close colleague Centurion Marcellus Crispus, of the Aquae Sulis vexillation of the Second Legion. And my good friend, the Decurion Agrippa Sorio, of Lindinis, and leader into battle of our allies the northern Durotriges.’

Marcellus stepped forward and saluted smartly, his freckled face slightly red.

Rufinus turned his hazel eyes onto the centurion. ‘You have my grateful thanks, Centurion. I never forget courage and loyalty. I will consider your future career path when time permits.’ Rufinus smiled briefly, and turned to the Durotrigan. A broadly-beaming Sorio had pushed his way through the dispirited ranks of the dispersing Augusta, and had been hovering on the fringes of the conversation. Drusus, eyes bright, was with him. Through his gasps for breath, Tiro was delighted to hear the Procurator invite them to attend him later that evening. Quintus saluted as the slaves lifted the Procurator’s litter and carried him through the ranks of the subdued Augusta, across the bridge and into the city. He raised his eyebrows at the sight of Tiro, curled over in pain.

‘Hurt my fucking ribs, sir. Oh, sorry sir.  I’ll get that bastard Lucius though. When I catch the fucker. Sorry, sir.’

Quintus smiled wryly. ‘I daresay Julia will have something that will help. Or Britta might.’

Tiro tried to grin. ‘Are we heading to Aquae Sulis then, sir? Or will Lady Julia be going back to Bo Gwelt?’

‘You will go wherever you can be healed fastest, Tiro. You’re no use to me like that.’ It was said drily, but again Tiro caught a hint of humour as well. Despite the pain of his bloody and blistered arm, Quintus had lost the grey look so frequently on his face these days. ‘As for me, we’ll see what our new Governor has to say.’

‘Governor, sir? Aradius Rufinus, you mean?’

‘Of course. I doubt very much the legate of the Valeria Victrix would have thrown his lot in with Rufinus so readily, had he not been assured by Rome there would be uncontested succession to the Governorship.’

Tiro hadn’t thought of that. It made sense. So he wasn’t surprised to see Quintus introducing himself to the Devan legate.

The Twentieth legion began to move across the bridge to enter the welcoming city. Clearly the citizens had heard about the switch of fortunes. Cheering townspeople were emerging from their shuttered and locked houses. One or two enterprising businesses had already set up little stands along the road, with striped awnings to keep off the threatening showers, and were beckoning to the mingled ranks of the Twentieth and the Second as they made their way into the city.

Well, he thought, at least the shopkeepers and bartenders of Corinium would be happy to have two full legions to stay for a day or two. And the Londinium lads.

Chapter Twenty-nine

The new Governor’s tent was comfortable, with camp seats positioned around a brazier. Bright rugs scattered over the canvas floor added warmth, and thick wall hangings kept out most of the draughts. Quintus noted how quickly the scene had been set for the first officers’ briefing of the new administration.

This is an effective man with an eye for detail. A leader to keep onside with.

Aradius Rufinus was seated, dressed in a broad-stripe toga and breeches, with a thick British wool blanket draped over his knees.