Vespasian: Tribune of Rome by Robert Fabbri Read Free Book Online Page A

full army, with all its logistical encumbrances, is marching then the most it will achieve in five hours is ten to twelve miles, travelling at the speed of its slowest component, which are the oxen pulling the baggage wagons and siege train.’ Sabinus looked down at his brother, who was starting to sweat in the rising heat. ‘But for our purposes we’ll concentrate on being a detachment. If you can keep up with this pace then marching in a full column will feel like a holiday.’ He led off, whistling the beat for his brother to march to.
    ‘Why do they only march for five hours?’ Vespasian asked after a few hundred paces. ‘Not that I want to do more,’ he added hastily.
    ‘Work it out for yourself. Where does a legion wake up in the morning?’ Sabinus said, taking the reed from his mouth but not stopping.
    ‘In camp,’ Vespasian answered.
    ‘Exactly. And where will it sleep that night?’
    ‘In another camp.’
    ‘Precisely. And who is going to build that camp, or do the gods just magic it out of thin air?’ Sabinus was enjoying himself.
    ‘Well, the legionaries, of course,’ Vespasian replied testily. The sweating skin beneath the poultice was starting to irritate him.
    ‘You’ve got it, little brother. Digging a defensive ditch, putting up a stockade, pitching the tents and, most importantly, cooking supper will take up the best part of the remaining hours of daylight. That is the basics of a legionary’s day. Wake, eat, strike camp, march, build new camp, eat, sleep.
    ‘Of course there’s far more to it than that: guard duty, drill, foraging, latrine fatigue, maintaining equipment and so on. But all this serves only to ensure that the legionary arrives, fit and prepared, in the right place for what he really exists for; and that is fighting and killing, whether it be in a small skirmish or in a big set-piece battle.’
    ‘Were you ever in a big battle?’ Vespasian asked, his curiosity overcoming his antipathy to his brother.
    ‘The rebellion in Africa was not like that. Tacfarinas’ Numidian army was mainly light cavalry and light infantry. They’re devious bastards, always harassing you, picking off stragglers, attacking foraging parties, never letting themselves be drawn into battle. The one time they did, at the start of the rebellion, the Third Augusta trounced them. After that they changed tactics and stayed well away from a full legion and started to pick on smaller fare. They managed to destroy a whole cohort of the Third Augusta a few months before we arrived.’
    ‘How did they do that?’ Vespasian asked as he worked his legs harder against what was becoming quite a steep slope.
    ‘They caught them on their way back from a punishment raid out on an open plain. The cohort formed up for a hand-to-hand affair, but the Numidians were having none of it. Their cavalry just rode around them, pelting them with javelins, whilst their infantry fired slingshot and arrows at our boys from a safe distance. Every time the cohort tried to charge them they just fell back and carried on shooting. It was a mini Carrhae. Most were dead within four hours; the unlucky few who were captured were pegged out naked in the desert sun with their eyes gouged out and their cocks cut off.
    ‘The Governor, Lucius Apronius, was so furious when he heard of this humiliation that he punished the rest of the legion by decimation, even though they hadn’t been there.’
    ‘That doesn’t seem fair,’ Vespasian said. His sandals were beginning to rub at his heels.
    ‘Who said it had to be fair? The legion had collectively suffered a deep wound. Losing an entire cohort, four hundred and eighty men, at the hands of rebels sullied the honour of the legion as a whole. The only way to restore it was with blood, so Lucius Apronius had them parade in front of him unarmed, wearing only tunics. Then they were counted off. Every ninth man was given a sword and had to behead the tenth man, his comrade, to his left. He might