The King's Cavalry by Paul Bannister Read Free Book Online Page A

Grabelius. “Tonight, before we head for Mainz.”
    The soldiers did not know it, but the bishop at the root of the crisis of beliefs, Bishop Candless the Pict, had already passed that city. He was well past Mainz on his way to Rome. The bishop was travelling with an entourage and making good time, 25 or more miles each day, fo r he was eager to reach Rome and Queen Helena before she could distribute any of the precious relics he knew she had collected in Jerusalem.
    Candless was once a warrior, and he knew that the gold he carried, for gold would be needed to acquire relics, and the impedimenta of his train would attract bandits. He had accordingly gathered a proper guard for the entourage, headed by a warrior from the south, Kenetis Potius, who had served in Mainz and fought with the XXII Primogenia legion against the tribes of the Danube.
    It was Potius who had overseen the equipment of his 80-man century at Bononia. Every soldier was kitted out Roman-style, from the heavy wool tunic that stretched to the knees, through the oiled-wool sagum , a hooded cloak that was his blanket, groundsheet, coat and sometimes the infantryman’s shroud, to the knee breeches, wool underpants and the toeless socks worn inside the closed, ankle-high, leather marching boots. These boots had soles that were cunningly nailed in an S or D pattern to spread the jolting load diagonally as the foot struck the ground, and they significantly reduced fatigue.
    The consul Gaius Marius had reformed the army several centuries before, loading much of the supplies and weaponry onto the legionaries who could carry it further and faster than the impedimenta trains hauled by plodding oxen, and the soldiers had since then ruefully referred to themselves as Marius’ Mules.
    But, even under full 80 lbs load of weapons, equipment and food supplies, those tough Mules could swiftly cover the ground, and Potius was resolved that his century would be a full match for any Roman infantry.
    He knew what he was doing, and he saw to it that the British footsloggers’ military packs, carried on a short pole, contained all they needed. There was a two-week supply of food, including imported fish paste flavouring and precious salt; a cooking kit, cloak bag, leather shield cover, spare socks and underwear. Lashed to the outside was an entrenching tool, and a six-foot heavy stake that would form part of the palisade of an overnight camp.
    For weapons, each man had a weighted javelin, a thrusting spear, a foot-long punching knife at his belt, and a gladius , the stabbing broadsword that had won battles for the legions from Persia to Pictland. This sword was carried sheathed over the right shoulder, to be snatched free after the javelin and the heavy darts that were clipped behind the legionary’s shield had been hurled at the enemy.
    The shield itself was a weapon. Tall, oblong and curved, the elmwood and leather scutum had a large bronze boss in its centre, and the soldiers used that as a punching weapon, smashing the shield forward into the enemy before stamping forward and crushing him under foot.
    For the legionary’s own protection, he wore chainmail over his wool tunic, or sometimes acquired the lighter, preferred segmentata armour that hung hoops of iron around his chest like the carapace of a lobster. This segmentata was often worn over a leather tunic liberally greased with lanolin, and the soldier wore a scarf at the throat to prevent chafing. Topping it all was a metal helmet with horsehair crest, metal cheek flaps and a deep tail to protect the nape of the neck.
    Candless had grumbled at the silver he had to spend to equip the guards, but he had plenty and the expedition should bring him a fortune. “We’ll obviously need supplies on the march, too,” Potius told the Pict. “So bring plenty of coin, we’ll be travelling for two months or so. Each way.”
    Candless didn’t correct him. Privately, the bishop expected his return journey to be much shorter and