Текст книги "The Legion"

Автор книги: Simon Scarrow

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CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

'Will he live?' asked Cato.

The surgeon did not answer immediately but sat still on his stool beside the legate's bed and considered his patient. Outside, dawn was breaking and the bucinas were rousing the men in the camp at Karnak. Macro and Cato stood to one side of the surgeon, sand and dust griming their faces. They had returned from the far bank, with the two Roman casualties, during the early hours. Aurelius had been carried down to the river on a stretcher fashioned from two cavalry lances and some cloaks. As soon as the boat crossed to the landing platform, the legate was rushed up to the infirmary while the archer went to have his wounded arm cleaned and dressed.

It took an hour for the surgeon to set the legate's broken limbs as well as he could and then splint them. The head wound was a more complicated affair and the blood had to be carefully washed away before the wound could be cleaned and examined. Aurelius lay on his side, his body tightly packed with bolsters so that he did not move. His breathing was ragged and Cato could see that the back of his head was badly misshapen beneath a thin linen dressing through which the blood was slowly seeping.

'Live?' The surgeon looked up from his patient. 'I doubt it. He's lost a lot of blood, and some brain matter. It came away when I was removing the skull fragments. I've put in a brass plate and sewn the scalp up. However, I don't hold out much hope. Anyway, even if he does survive, his brain is damaged beyond repair. He would be condemned to spend the rest of his days as a simpleton. Death would be a mercy for him now.'

Cato nodded. 'I see. Then I'd be obliged if you would write up your conclusions and have them entered in the legion's log book.'

The surgeon stood up and faced Cato. 'Sir, I have a hospital full of wounded men following the actions of the previous two days. I have to devote my attention to them before I can deal with any reports.'

'I understand,' Cato replied gently. 'However, you must do as I say. The legate, though alive, is no longer capable of performing his duties. Therefore authority over the legion, and the rest of the army, passes to the next officer in the chain of command.'

'Namely you, sir.'

'Precisely. There must be no doubt that I have followed the correct protocols in assuming command. I cannot afford to have my authority challenged. For the sake of the men.'

'And to cover your back, in the event that the campaign does not end well for Rome, no doubt.'

'You can think what you like. But I need your statement entered into the records.' Cato spoke firmly. 'At once, if you don't mind.'

The surgeon hesitated. 'And if I do mind?'

'Then at once in any case. That is an order.'

'Yes, sir.'

Cato turned to Macro. 'Centurion, come. We need to talk.'

He turned and walked from the room set aside for the legate's treatment. Macro followed him, falling into step with Cato as they emerged from the hospital. They made their way across the temple complex towards the southern entrance and the headquarters beyond.

'That's a pretty bold step,' said Macro. 'I'm not sure the governor is going to be happy that you've assumed command of the army. It's all that stands between Prince Talmis and the lower Nile.'

'The governor is far from the centre of operations,' Cato responded. 'He is in no position to judge what course of action should be taken. In any case, the latest reports we have are that the Nubians are no more than a day's march from here. What would you have me do? Send a request to him asking for advice on how we should proceed, and then sit on my arse and wait for his response? By then we'll have been overrun and Prince Talmis would be well on his way to Memphis and the delta region. It'd be a bloody disaster, and you know it.'

'Of course I do.' Macro smiled. 'But then I'm not the one taking control of the army. If nothing else, it proves that you've got balls of solid iron, my friend.'

'Oh?' Cato turned to him. 'Don't think for a moment that I'm the only one who is sticking his neck out. I might be taking on the command of this army, but my first act is going to be to make you my camp prefect. So you'd better hope we come out of this covered in glory because the alternative won't smell nearly so sweet.'

'The thing that is puzzling me is how the hell Ajax could have got away from us,' Macro fumed as he settled on one of the comfortable stools in the legate's quarters. 'We had the right tomb. His men had been in there and he had left two of his injured behind. We didn't miss any side passages or openings. So he must have got out before we closed the trap.'

'Obviously.'

'But then how did he get out of the valley? He couldn't have climbed out, not without being seen, and he couldn't have got by us.'

Cato was silent for a moment. 'He didn't. We got past him.'

Macro frowned. 'What are you talking about?'

'Think it through, Macro. As soon as we knew which tomb he was in we made straight for it. Marched right into the valley and turned up that side track towards the tomb you searched. So what do you think happened?'

Macro thought a moment and took a sharp breath. 'It couldn't be that simple, surely?'

Cato shrugged. 'How else could he have escaped? He must have heard us march by. By the gods, I wouldn't be surprised if he had been bold enough to watch us from one of those tombs at the entrance to the valley. As soon as we passed out of sight, he and his men emerged, crept back down the track towards the Nile and made their escape.'

'He could be anywhere by now,' Macro reflected.

'That's right.'

Macro shook his head in wonder. 'Ajax has to be the most cunning bastard we've ever had to deal with, aside from that little shit Narcissus back in Rome. He must have known we'd try to work out his hiding place, then he let us see just enough to convince our scouts before switching his men to another tomb. Clever.'

'Yes, clever. Or perhaps there's another reason he got away from us.'

'You mean luck? He just happened to switch tombs at just the right moment? Unlikely.'

'Extremely unlikely.' Cato folded his hands together and leaned over the legate's table to concentrate his full attention on Macro. 'I'm talking about something else, Macro. I'm saying that I think Ajax was warned. He was told that we had sent scouts to find his hiding place. That's why he changed it and was able to trick us.'

'Warned? Who by?'

Cato did not reply. He was quiet for a moment as his tired mind put his thoughts together. At length he leaned back and addressed his friend in an even tone. 'Don't you think that Ajax has had a rather extraordinary run of good fortune since we've been pursuing him across Egypt?'

'Good fortune?' Macro pursed his lips. 'What do you mean, exactly?'

'Let's start with recent events. Ajax's escape from the temple. You remember the cavalry prefect's report about the massacre of one of his patrols. He said that the attackers had used a password to get close. So, how did they get the password?'

'Might they not have overheard someone using it? Like Junius said.'

'They might, but the men are pretty good at talking only as loudly as they must when making challenges. Even so, the man who gave the password was in Roman kit.'

'I suppose they could have stripped one of the bodies of the men we lost in the first assault.'

Cato nodded. 'That's what I thought. So I checked with one of your optios before we left the temple to head for the valley of the tombs. All the bodies were accounted for, and so was their kit.'

Macro stared shrewdly at his comrade. 'This isn't something that's only just occurred to you, is it?'

'I had my suspicions. Then when we got to the valley, there was the business with the wrong tomb being identified, and then the legate falling from the ramp.'

Macro shook his head. 'That was an accident.'

'You saw it happen?'

Macro was exhausted and had to concentrate hard to remember the details of what had happened in the tomb. 'We were on the ramp… An arrow was shot at us. I heard a cry… Turned and saw the legate falling. Yes, it was an accident.'

'Tell me, who was standing closest to the legate when it occured?'

'Hamedes was there,' Macro replied, and then he stared intently at Cato.

'Hamedes.' Cato nodded. 'Precisely.'

Macro was silent for a moment as he took the accusation in. 'Are you saying he's a traitor?'

'That implies that he has betrayed us. I think he never was on our side in the first place. Think about it, Macro. What is his story? He was the only survivor of Ajax's raid on his temple.'

'Yes, but he was spared by Ajax to let others know who was responsible. Just like he left other survivors.'

'True,' Cato responded. 'Which is why we were predisposed to believe him.'

Macro shook his head. 'This is too far-fetched, Cato. If there is a traitor out there, it isn't Hamedes. I know the lad well enough. He's been straight with us. Why, he's faced every danger we have. These other things you mention are just coincidences.'

'Like the cobra in our tent? Ever wondered where that came from? Did you notice that Hamedes had a large kitbag when he boarded the barge in Cairo? It was a lot smaller when he disembarked. Then there were the fragments of a broken jar close to the tent. I wonder what the jar had contained, and where it came from? Just more coincidences? Tell me, have you never had any grounds to doubt him?'

Macro thought back over the time he had known the young priest. He recalled the raid on Ajax's base and the fire in the lookout tower that had given away their presence to the rebels. Hamedes could have lit the fire easily enough while the rest of them were preoccupied. The seeds of suspicion that Cato had planted were readily watered by Macro's recollection of that event.

There was a knock on the door frame and an optio stepped into the room.

Cato looked up at him. 'Yes?'

'I've brought the priest to you, sir. As ordered.'

Cato glanced at Macro. 'Let's see what Hamedes has to say for himself. Send him in, and stay with us.'

'Yes, sir.' The optio beckoned round the door frame. 'All right, gypo, this way. Smartly now!'

Hamedes entered the room, wearing a tunic. He looked dazed, as if he had just been woken. He smiled as he saw Macro and Cato. 'How can I help you, sirs?'

Cato stared at him without any expression and sat back in his chair. 'You can tell me what your real name is, for a start.'

Hamedes' smile faded. 'Sorry? What did you say, sir?'

'You heard me. I want to know your real name.'

Hamedes opened his mouth, closed it and looked helplessly at Macro. 'I don't understand.'

Cato puffed irritably. 'Let's try another tack. How long have you known Ajax? Did you join his rebellion in Crete, or did he recruit you from amongst the slaves of the ships he has raided since then?'

Hamedes swallowed anxiously. 'Sir, I am a humble priest. I have every reason to hate Ajax as much as you do. He butchered my brother priests and looted our sacred temple. I am Hamedes. You have to believe me, sir… please. I swear to you, on all that I hold holy, I am no spy. Believe me.'

Cato smiled coldly at him. 'By the gods, you would make a fine actor. No doubt that is why Ajax picked you for the task. Turns out to have been a good choice. After all, it was you who saved him from the temple, and later the tomb. And it was you who pushed the legate into the pit.'

'No!' Hamedes shook his head. 'I didn't do that. It was an accident. Centurion, you were there. You saw him fall.'

'I saw him fall,' Macro agreed quietly. 'But he could have been pushed.'

Hamedes looked at him with a horrified expression. 'You think I did it?'

'I… I don't know.' Macro shook his head slowly. 'Fuck, I really don't know.'

'Well, I do,' said Cato. 'There's more than enough evidence that points the finger of guilt at this man. After Ajax's escape from the temple, we know that someone in the army has been helping him. It was the escape from the tomb that confirmed my suspicions. This is our spy.' Cato paused. 'And there is only one punishment fit for a spy.'

Hamedes' eyes widened in terror. 'None of this is true! I'm innocent. By the gods, I swear it!'

Cato ignored him and turned his attention to the optio. 'Take him away.'

'What will you do to him?' asked Macro.

'We'll have him crucified at dawn, then send his head to the enemy. If Ajax has found his way back to the side of Prince Talmis, it will let him know what fate he and his men have awaiting them.'

The optio strode forward and grasped Hamedes by the arm. 'Come on, lad.'

Hamedes stood his ground, and the optio yanked him round harshly and steered him towards the door and out into the corridor.

'You're making a mistake!' Hamedes wailed. 'I'm not a spy. I'm innocent!'

Macro and Cato heard the sounds of a scuffle as the optio dragged him away. Then there was a shout.

'Oi, you bastard! Stop!'

Macro sprang up from his chair and ran to the door. Along the colonnade he saw Hamedes sprinting towards the exit. The optio had been knocked to the floor, but he recovered quickly, and drew his dagger as he rose to his feet. With a well-practised hand he flicked the dagger over so that he held the blade, then took quick aim, drew his arm back and threw the small blade as hard as he could after the fleeing figure. Macro saw the blade spin through the air before it struck Hamedes hard, just below his neck. His legs instantly collapsed under him and he fell, rolled over once like a child's doll and then lay still.

'What's happened?' Cato asked as he emerged behind Macro. 'Oh…'

The optio trotted forward and bent over the body. He placed a boot on Hamedes' head and pulled his knife free. He looked up at the two officers. 'He's done for, sir.'

Cato nodded.

Macro cleared his throat and muttered, 'I suppose it was a better end for him than the one he deserved. We were lucky, sir. If you hadn't exposed him now there's no telling how much more damage he would have done to our side.' Macro frowned and then admitted, 'I never suspected him… Never.'

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Cato waited until the last of the officers had settled down on the benches set out in the courtyard of the priests' quarters. Macro stood a short distance to Cato's right, erect, boots apart, solid as a bull. The officers watched Cato expectantly, then he stood up and cleared his throat.

'Acting Legate Aurelius died of his injuries just after midday. I had already assumed command since he was incapacitated, attested to by the legion's surgeon. However, that is all academic now. As your new commander I have already given fresh orders for the prosecution of the campaign against the Nubians. There will be no division of the army. All forces will concentrate here, at Diospolis Magna, and then the army will march on the Nubians and give battle at the earliest opportunity.' Cato looked round at the officers. 'Any questions, gentlemen?'

The brevity of his address left most of his officers surprised. It took a moment before one of the older centurions, whom Cato recognised as being amongst the cronies of the late Aurelius, stood up. Centurion Aescher stared coolly at Cato and then gave him an insincere smile.

'Sir, I think I speak for most here when I say that the loss of the acting legate is keenly felt. It comes as a hard blow on top of the death of the previous legate and the discovery of the spy that you unwittingly brought into our camp.'

Cato tried not to register his surprise and annoyance that word of Hamedes' treachery had spread through the legion already. The officer continued.

'One might be forgiven for thinking the Jackals have been cursed. Both previous commanders were men of immense experience in the service. Both knew the legion and its men well. Therefore, sir, you will understand me when I say that it is in the best interests of the legion, this army and Rome if we send a request to the governor in Alexandria to appoint a new, permanent, commander of the legion. It is in no way a judgement on your competence, sir. Rather, it is a reflection of the troubled state of the men's morale. They would prefer to be led by a man with the requisite experience and seniority,' the centurion concluded and resumed his seat.

'Thank you,' said Cato. 'Is there anyone else who wishes to speak?'

He looked round, but the officers kept their silence as they waited for him to respond to the centurion's remarks. Cato nodded. 'Very well, then. Your comments are noted. Now, hear my words.' Cato stared round the room. 'There will be no request. There is no time to refer the matter to the governor. I have assumed command legally and I will not tolerate any attempt to question my authority. The situation is too serious for playing games, gentlemen. The province is in great danger. We must deal with the threat swiftly and decisively. You may make all the protests you like once the Nubians have been defeated.'

The centurion rose again. 'Sir, might I ask what was wrong with the original plan? Legate Aurelius-'

'Acting Legate Aurelius,' Macro interrupted. 'Rather, Former Acting Legate Aurelius.'

The centurion shot Macro a hostile look before he continued. 'The previous commander's plan seemed sound enough to me. Your plan seems to be rather less subtle and far less likely to result in the trapping and destruction of the Nubians… sir.'

'Really?' Cato responded flatly. 'Forgive me, but I thought it was a common maxim of military strategy not to divide a weaker force in the face of a stronger one. Or do you do things differently here in Egypt?'

The sarcastic note of the last comment was not lost on the centurion and his companions. Cato ignored the brief chorus of mutters and continued. 'Aurelius's plan would have led to disaster. Our forces would each be defeated in turn and then Prince Talmis would be free to rampage across the province until such time as the Emperor could assemble an army large enough to drive the Nubians out. Meanwhile, the damage to wheat production and the destruction of the cities along the Nile would take many years to recover from. The same fate would await Egypt if we just sit on our arses and wait for a new commander to be sent to us. The only course of action that stands any chance of saving the army and the province is to strike at the enemy at once, with every man we can scrape together.' Cato paused and looked over the faces of the officers, men he needed to make his own if he was to have any chance of success. He moderated his tone when he spoke again.

'I do not need to explain myself to you, gentlemen. I have acted within the regulations laid down by the imperial army bureau, in the name of Emperor Claudius. That should suffice under normal conditions. I accept that our situation is somewhat irregular, but then when is war ever a neat and tidy affair? Until recent days the Twenty-Second Legion has been a garrison unit. The only action many of you and your men have seen is a minor skirmish as part of some police action or some punitive raid against brigands. Frankly, compared to the other legions that Centurion Macro and I have had the honour of serving with, the Jackals are second-rate. To be sure, the men are trained and exercised according to regulations, but they lack combat experience. That is the only true test of a soldier's value. It is a hard-won attribute. Now, some of the men have had the chance to prove themselves in the assault on the temple and they did well enough, but most of the men, and officers, are still to be tested. Including you, Centurion Aescher. I do not say this out of any desire to undermine you, but as a statement of fact. The other fact that cannot be disputed is that both Centurion Macro and I have had considerable campaign and battle experience. If anything, you should feel reassured that we will be leading you into battle. I cannot think of a more courageous example than Centurion Macro to inspire the men who follow him.'

Macro stirred uneasily at his friend's words then fixed his face in a stern expression and stood stock still.

'The Jackals have the potential to be fine soldiers,' Cato continued. 'And our victory over the Nubians will give them a chance to win a battle honour for their eagle standard. But I will not lie to you about the scale of the challenge facing us. You must understand, and get your men to understand, that there are only two paths ahead of us when we march out to face the enemy – one leads to victory, the other to certain death. Now that I and Centurion Macro are in command, your chances have improved. The rest is up to you. Forget the past. Forget your plans for the future. Think only of killing your enemy. That is all that matters. It's a simple enough philosophy, gentlemen, and it has worked well enough for Centurion Macro and me over the years we have served together. Isn't that so?'

'Yes, sir!' Macro nodded.

Cato took a deep breath and looked round at his officers, seeing some spark of determination in their expressions. That was good, he reflected. Some of his words had struck home. He had done what he could to instil the right state of mind in his officers and stiffen their resolve in the face of the great test to come. 'The army marches from Karnak at first light tomorrow. You have the rest of the day to prepare your men, equipment and supplies. Dismissed!'

The officers stood up and began to make their way out of the courtyard, many of them conversing in low voices. Macro stood still until the last of them had left and then let his shoulders droop a little as he exhaled in a long, weary sigh.

'What do you think?' asked Cato.

'Oh, you were on fine form, lad. I have to say that I've heard the victory or death routine more than once before. So have you. It's an old line but, so help me, it still stirs the blood.'

'Hmmm. I meant what do you think about our officers?'

Macro jerked his thumb towards the entrance to the courtyard. 'That lot? Not the best I've ever come across, and possibly not the worst.'

'That doesn't sound very encouraging.'

'Oh, they'll fight when the time comes.' Macro shrugged nonchalantly. 'After all, what choice have they got?'

'None, as it happens. I had the report from one of the patrols just before the briefing began. The Nubian army is still camped a day's march to the south. It has been for the last two days. It seems that Prince Talmis is challenging us to come out and face him.'

'Or we could wait for him here and hold him off.'

'No. If we do that, he'll surround us, bide his time and starve us into surrender. Either way, he has the advantage.'

Macro looked at his younger friend and could see the exhaustion marked in his face, and the bloodshot eyes. Cato had removed the sling before the officers had arrived and now supported his left arm with his spare hand. Macro felt a stab of paternal concern for Cato. 'Look here, there's nothing to be done now. The officers will make the preparations and I'll keep watch over them to make sure they do a good job. You should rest. Let that arm recover. We're going to need you in good shape tomorrow. Can't afford to have tiredness cloud your thinking. Not with all our lives at stake.'

Cato stared at him and smiled. 'Thank you. If there's time, I'll rest. But first I have to think about how we're going to win this campaign. Fine words are one thing, but they never won a battle. And after that business with Hamedes I can understand why they might question my judgement.'

'Bollocks. Hamedes was a spy. Spies are supposed to be good at winning trust. In any case, he didn't fool you in the end. You saw through him, and put a stop to his treachery,' Macro concluded bitterly.

Cato looked at him and saw that his friend was struggling to hide his true feelings. 'His betrayal hit you hard, didn't it?'

'Yes… I liked the lad. I thought he showed real guts in going into that valley to find Ajax's lair. Now I know it was all a sham. That bastard fooled me good and proper.'

Cato felt the need to offer his friend some crumb of comfort. 'For what it's worth, I think he admired you, despite being your enemy.'

'Even if that's true, what does it matter? Hamedes was Ajax's man. If I'd known, then I'd have killed him with my bare hands, without hesitation. I feel a bit of a fool, Cato. That's all there is to it. Good riddance.'

'Yes, of course.' Cato nodded, and knew it would be best to drop the subject. 'Macro, I need your help. I fear that we're in for the hardest battle we have ever fought.'

The first rays of the rising sun were angling across the low hills to the east as the Romans marched out of the camp at Karnak. The auxiliary cavalry led the way, its squadrons stretched out across the army to screen its advance. The main column was led by an auxiliary infantry cohort. Then came the legionaries, weighted down by their armour and the kit fixed to their marching yokes. Their helmets hung from brass hooks on their belts and the men wore light cotton headscarves to shield them from the glare of the coming day, and soak up the sweat from their scalps.

Long shadows were cast across the dust kicked up by preceding columns and from a short distance away, where Cato and Macro rode at the head of the small group of staff officers, the men appeared as dim figures amid the orange haze of dust. Behind the legion came the baggage train, together with the carts carrying the legion's complement of bolt throwers. There were rations for seven days and if the Nubians chose to fall back for any reason, Cato knew that he could only afford to pursue them a short distance. Prince Talmis would be certain to strip the land of supplies ahead of the Romans.

Tribune Junius edged his mount forward until it drew alongside the new commander of the army. He was silent for a moment and then coughed.

'What is it, Tribune?' asked Cato.

'Sir, I was wondering what your plans are for the coming battle.'

'To defeat the enemy.'

'Yes, of course, sir. Goes without saying.'

Macro turned to look at the tribune with a wry expression. 'So what more is there to say?'

Junius was not prepared to give in so easily and continued to address Cato. 'With respect, sir, I am now the senior tribune of the legion. In the event that anything happens to you and Centurion Macro, then the command will fall to me. I should know your intentions, sir. For the good of the army.'

Cato appraised him. It could only have been a few months since Junius was appointed a junior tribune and he was already bearing far greater responsibilities than his peers in other legions across the Empire. Such were the exigencies of war, Cato mused. It was true that Junius was third in the chain of command, in theory, yet although the centurions had accepted his own assumption of the legate's role, Cato doubted they would tolerate having to obey this callow youth, who had as much military experience as a raw recruit. Cato shook his head.

'You'll know my intentions in good time, Tribune. As for the prospect of having the command of the army foisted on you, I advise you to be careful what you wish for. You know how the saying goes?'

'Yes, sir. But I need to be ready, if misfortune should strike you and Macro.'

'Misfortune? That's a nice euphemism.' Cato chuckled drily. 'Learn the trade as fully as you can, Junius. Listen to the veterans and profit from their experience. Then you can think about command. For now, this is on-the-job training for you. That's all. You are not ready. If I fall, Macro takes over. If he falls, then it must be another man, not you. Despite regulations.'

'Oh…' A look of bitter disappointment clouded the tribune's face. 'I only want to serve Rome, sir. As devoutly as I can.'

'Devoutly?' Macro chuckled. 'This is the army, lad, not a religious cult. There's far more to it than rituals, ceremonies and mumbo-jumbo. We don't play at what we do. It's life and death for us and that means we have to be sure that the men are commanded by those who know what they're doing. See?'

Junius glared at Macro for a moment and then swallowed and nodded. With a curt nod of the head to his two superiors he halted his horse and fell back amongst the rest of the party of horsemen.

'Keen, isn't he?' Cato smiled. 'Reminds me of myself when I joined up.'

'Oh no, you were much more of a drip than him.'

Cato's eyes narrowed. 'Drip?'

'Come on, you know you were. Thin streak of piss, and clumsy with it. Yet you ponced in and thought you could command men in the field just because you'd read up on military history.' Macro smiled fondly at the memory. 'The army was the making of you, and you know it.'

Cato glanced round to make sure that the other officers were out of earshot of this rather frank appraisal of his early days in the service of Rome, and then turned back to Macro.

'It is true I might not have been ideal material for the Second Legion… but I learned quickly enough. Of course, I was lucky to have a fine mentor.'

'True,' Macro agreed, dispensing with false modesty.

Cato jerked his head back towards the others. 'Given time Junius will work out as well as I did. Better, in fact, given his senatorial background. Perhaps we should be careful how we speak to him,' Cato mused. 'One day he is sure to outrank us and then he might not be forgiving for past slights.'

'If today's little exchange still weighs on his mind years from now then, frankly, he doesn't deserve to rise to senior rank. I've seen generals come and go, Cato, and the small-minded ones never lasted long in post. That's one of the advantages of having an Emperor, I guess.' Macro scratched his ear. 'Claudius can dismiss any man who's not up to the job. He can afford to choose the best. The Emperor doesn't have to worry about appeasing political factions and dancing to their tune all the time.'

'Now who's being green?' Cato laughed. 'You really think emperors are above politics? Why do you think the biggest armies are always entrusted to close relatives of the imperial family? And why do emperors watch their other generals like hawks? That's why we were sent out to the eastern Empire in the first place, to keep an eye on Governor Longinus in Syria. Politics doesn't stop at the camp gate. Emperor Claudius knows that better than most of his predecessors. The army handed him the throne and he's rewarded them with handsome donatives ever since to make sure they know he hasn't forgotten it. Politics…' Cato sighed. 'It's what we must wade through all our lives.'