Scipio's letter to Portensia (part II)

We searched the camp, but there were no signs of corpses, either human or formican. Trivarius sent cavalry scouts to search the vicinity, hoping that some of our men may have fled and hidden themselves, to await our return. But no survivors were found, although our scouts found the trail the formicans had taken on their retreat. However, the sun was already sinking below the horizon, so the Consul recalled our men and put off any further pursuit. He was reluctant to lose any more men that night.

Shortly after dusk, I was summoned to the Consul’s tent. When I arrived I found Quaestor Cyriacus already with Trivarius, the two of them deep in debate. And in one corner of the tent, squatting with half-closed eyes was Cyriacus’ lanky Nubian scout. In such close proximity I could smell the strong rancid odor of the man, and was repulsed. He was still naked, even in the Consul’s presence, save for his ragged wolf-skin cloak. I could not understand why Trivarius overlooked this obvious breech of etiquette. Were barbarians now to be allowed to sit in on the councils of Roman generals?

But I held my tongue. There were more pressing matters than issues of etiquette and tradition.

“Consul, I wish to have your permission to follow the formican’s trail on the morrow. If you give me a single cavalry cohort, I can locate the formicans, and learn the fate of my men” I said.

Trivarius held up his hand, “I will do better tribune! Tomorrow the entire legion will march. I see no sense in wasting time here. If the formicans have taken refuge nearby, then they can expect the same fate as their kin did last night.”

Cyriacus spoke then, “I protest Consul. As I have explained to you, the formicans that were here were nothing. As were the ones we slew last night. There is a greater prize, but it is not in the direction of the trail your men have discovered. If we go on this goose chase, we will lose the more subtle trail my man has uncovered.”

“Silence Quaestor!” said Trivarius then, in a cold voice. “Do not forget who commands this legion. We will follow the trail we have found, and retrieve our men, dead or alive. Then, and only then, will I place this legion at your service again; is that clear!”

“Consul, there are things unfolding here which you do not understand” said the Quaestor then, “If you will not support me, I am forced to take my cohort and pursue the Senate’s purpose alone.”

“You will do no such thing!” shouted Trivarius. “Your men are part of this legion until this campaign is concluded. And if you are unable to take my orders, then I am sure I can find a commander from your cohort who will.”

“You are making a very big mistake Consul,” said the Quaestor calmly. “My men will not take your orders. They follow only me. And you know well that your men are not equipped to deal with the formicans.”

“That may be true, but it is just as true that your men are not equipped to deal with human soldiers…barbarians or otherwise.” The Consul let the implications of his words sink in. “Tread carefully Quaestor. This part of the world can be very dangerous for Romans who do not have the protection of the legion. It is best you understand that.”

The Quaestor stood there for a moment, his face expressionless. Then without a word he turned and left the Consul’s tent. The Nubian got to his feet and followed his master wordlessly. I was left alone in the tent with Trivarius.

“Tribune, we have quite a problem on our hands do we not,” said the Consul after a brief pause, a grim smile on his face.

“Aye Consul, that we do. But I do not think the Quaestor will try anything stupid. You were right. He cannot march alone with his cohort. He needs the protection of the legion. And of course he will not disregard your direct order. He has no option but to obey you.”

“Be that as it may, I think we will have to watch him closely. And that man of his as well. I wanted you to lead the reconnaissance ahead of the legion, but I think now I will leave that to another tribune. From now on I want you to take charge of keeping the Quaestor’s cohort in line. Report to me directly if you hear of anything untoward,” said Trivarius. “You are dismissed”.

I went then to round up some men I could trust. The men most loyal to me, those of the First Century and Marcus Domina, were gone. But I needed reliable men in order to do the Consul’s bidding.

I spent the entire first watch moving from century to century, looking for men that had served under me, men upon whom I could rely. By the second watch I was able to return to my tent to sleep, having rounded up a dozen or so grizzled veterans, hard men, whose loyalty to the Consul and the legion was unquestionable.

Before I retired I gave these men orders to trail both Cyriacus and his Nubian scout.

The next morning I was summoned to the Consul’s tent again. This was something of a surprise to me as Trivarius had just given me orders the previous night.

When I arrived at the Consul’s tent, I found him already outside and conferring with his senior centurions, Cyriacus’ Nubian scout in tow. I made my presence known to my commander with the customary “Ave!” but Trivarius only looked up briefly and then continued in his discussion with the centurions.

I had no choice but to wait politely as my general finished his business. However the Consul’s behavior annoyed me. What reason did he have to summon me, and make me wait, when he knew I had many tasks to complete, tasks which he himself had assigned me!

Finally the Consul turned from the crowd of officers and approached me. I expected to be called into his tent for a private audience, but he addressed me there in the open, with Cyriacus’ Nubian beside him, and soldiers milling about on their duties.

“The Quaestor has been recalled to Rome, tribune. But he has left his scout here to guide us. I fear I cannot spare the men to follow the formican trail—your men are likely dead in any case—and I have decided that it is more important to follow the Quaestor’s direction in this. This scout has the means to lead us to a formican target of some great importance.”

I was left in shock for a moment. What had come over the Consul! We had only the night before discussed our plans to follow the formican trail, so why now this about-face?

“Consul you must reconsider,” I said, “the lives of my men may be at stake! And the Quaestor has not given us any information on what this so called ‘important’ target is.”

“Enough tribune,” said Trivarius, “I have been assured that this action is crucial to the Senate’s purpose, and this is sufficient for me, as it should be for you.”

“I am appointing you to lead the 2nd cohort. Go now and take charge of your men. We break camp and march within the hour. Ave.” said the consul without emotion, turning his back to me and ending the conversation.

I stood there dumfounded, staring at the Consul’s back, as he took up his conversation with the centurions again.

I looked then at the Nubian, and noticed that the man was scrutinizing me with a great intensity. His stare was almost aggressive, and I was tempted to strike the man’s face.

But I did not.

Instead I returned to my tent with haste and sent word to the men I had recruited asking them to meet me at the 2nd Cohort’s mustering point.

The first man to return was the man I had told to follow the Quaestor. His report was puzzling.

“Tribune, the Quaestor left his tent during the third watch. I followed him to the Consul’s tent. There he asked for an audience, and I saw him turned away by the Consul’s guards, but he insisted on seeing the Consul, and so finally the Consul himself came outside, and though irritated, allowed him into the tent.”

“When did the Quaestor leave?” I asked.
“That is the thing tribune, he never left,” said the legionary.

“What? The Consul just told me the Quaestor was recalled to Rome!”

“Tribune, I swear to you, the Quaestor never left the tent. And I promise you I did not doze off or fail in my duty in any way. But there was one other strange thing I must report,” said the legionary.

“Well out with it man,” I said.

“That strange man, the Quaestor’s Nubian scout, came to the Consul’s tent as well. The guards prevented him from entering the tent at first, but the Consul came to the tent entrance soon after and summoned him within.” The legionary shook his head then. “The scout left again at dawn, and returned after the guard change with a wain. The Consul dismissed his new guards as the sun was coming up.”

“Did you see your comrade, the one I had trail the scout?” I asked.

“Not at first, he was as well hidden as I was. But I did catch sight of him briefly at dawn,” said the legionary. “The Nubian loaded something onto the wain after the guards had left. It looked like a chest, tribune.”

“Did you see where the Nubian took the wain?” I asked.

“I saw him drive it to the camp gate, tribune, but could not follow it myself as I expected the Quaestor to leave the Consul’s tent at any moment,” said the Legionary.

“Did he then?” I asked.

“He did not, tribune.”

“Find your comrade who was following the Nubian, and have him report to me. He must be in the camp, as the Nubian himself is with the Consul at this moment,” I said.

But the legionary who had trailed the Nubian did not report to me until an hour later, by which time the legion had almost completed it’s preparations to leave camp.

I was attending to my duties as the 2nd Cohorts new commander. There was not much I needed to do, as the cohort’s centurions were well accustomed to the drill of making and breaking camp. My duties were limited to examining the inventories presented to me by the optios, and inspecting the centuries as they completed their preparations.

I was taking the report from the centurion of the 6th century, when the legionary I had assigned to follow the Nubian the night before, arrived at a jog. The man was out of breath and had obviously run a great distance.

“Tribune,” he said, “there is something strange afoot. You must come with me immediately. I will explain on the way.”

I looked about me, and deciding that my cohort would manage fine without my supervision, I followed the legionnaire from the camp.

By this time the legion was almost ready to depart, so knowing that we had to make haste, I requisitioned a couple horses from a cavalry cohort. We rode a couple of miles from the camp, following the trail of a wain, likely that left by the Nubian’s the night before.

The wain trail ended beside a small field. There, not far from the wheel ruts, was a hole that had been recently uncovered, with soil heaped up beside it. The legionary walked up to the hole, and standing at the lip, gestured down into it.

“You must see this tribune, I cannot explain it,” said the legionary.

I looked down into the hole, and for a moment I could not make sense of what I saw. There in the bottom of what was clearly a shallow grave, lay the naked body of consul Trivarius. And from the condition of the corpse, it was clear he had been dead for hours.

My head began to spin. Who was it then that had given me orders that very morning? Nothing made sense anymore. Was I truly hallucinating now?

I jumped into the grave and examined the consul’s body more closely. The cause of death was easy to see. His throat had been cut from ear to ear.

I looked at the legionary and asked him, “How did you find this grave?”

“The Nubian buried him here last night. I did not realize it was the consul until I had uncovered the grave, this morning,” said the legionary.

“Help me put the body on my horse,” I said.