The Eagle In the Sand

The decurion gri

'Good man. That's the last of our commerce excursions. Any questions?'

One of the older centurions raised his arm and Scrofa regarded the man with a weary expression as he responded. 'Yes, Parmenion?'

'What about that business yesterday, sir? Are we going after Ba

Scrofa glanced at his adjutant and Postumus leaned closer. The two men conferred quietly for a moment before Scrofa turned back to the questioner. 'You are right, of course. We ca

'Yes, sir,' Parmenion replied. 'But wouldn't it make more sense to try to track down the brigands themselves? Rather than mount another punitive expedition?'

'There's no point in exposing our men to the danger of an armed clash with these brigands,' Scrofa responded uneasily. His adjutant stepped forward and interceded.

'The brigands can only survive by drawing on support from the villagers. If we can persuade the locals to stop supporting Ba

Centurion Parmenion gave the adjutant a withering stare for a moment before he tilted his head and glanced past Postumus towards the prefect.'Begging your pardon, sir, but we've been going in hard on the locals for months now. And we're no closer to finishing Ba

Centurion Postumus stabbed his finger at Parmenion. 'Thank you, Centurion Parmenion. I am aware of your long experience in this province, but that will be all for now. You have your orders. All you have to do is carry them out. Trust me, when the locals understand that Rome will brook absolutely no hint of defiance, then we will have order in this area. Besides, according to my sources, the number of Ba

'Sir, I'm not sure how far we can rely on those sources of yours.They've not been much help so far, and anyway, men who are paid to inform tend to say what they think their paymaster wants to hear.'

'I trust them,' Scrofa said firmly. 'The threat from Ba

Parmenion shrugged and nodded towards Macro. 'They seemed to give the centurion's escort a pretty good hiding.'

Postumus smiled. 'Let's just say, the centurion's escort must have had an inflated sense of any danger they might have been in.'

Parmenion turned to Macro. 'What do you think, sir? You were ambushed by them. How much danger do you think Ba

Macro pursed his lips a moment before he replied. 'It was a well-worked trap. He caught us on a narrow track, and must have had three, maybe four hundred men with him. Yes, they were poorly armed, and only a small proportion had mounts. But if that's how many men he can call on for a simple ambush, then I should imagine his entire force is something to be reckoned with. Or will be, if he can ever train and equip them adequately. As it was, we only managed to break through because they weren't expecting us to charge them.'

As his friend spoke, Cato felt a chill run down his spine. What was it that Ba

Centurion Postumus again responded on behalf of his commander. He nodded his head, as if in agreement with Macro, and then smiled faintly. 'Of course, in your haste to escape it is possible that you might have overestimated the danger.'

Macro stared hard at the adjutant. 'Are you calling me a liar?'

'Of course not, sir. I'm just saying that in the heat of, er, shall we say battle, it must be hard to know exactly how many men you were facing.'

'I see.' Macro's expression darkened. 'If you don't believe me, then ask Centurion Cato here how many men he thought we were facing.'

'What would be the point, sir? He was in the same predicament as yourself. Why should his judgement be any less clouded? Besides, he had a head injury. He could easily have been mistaken about the size of the force you encountered. I assure you, we have perfectly good intelligence that the threat from Ba

Cato leaned forward. 'Then why go to the trouble of all these punitive raids on local villages?'

'Because we need to dissuade them from any further support for Ba

'Surely, if you treat the Judaeans harshly, you'll only drive them into his arms, as Centurion Parmenion pointed out. Perhaps we should be trying to win these people over.'

'No point,' Scrofa interrupted.'It's clear that they hate our guts. We'll never win them over as long as they cling to their faith. In which case we can only hold them in line through fear.'

Macro leaned back and crossed his arms. 'Let them hate, as long as they fear, eh?'

The prefect shrugged. 'The dictum seems to work well enough.'

Cato felt his heart sink. Scrofa's was a short-sighted and dangerous approach, particularly in the present situation where Ba

'Anyway,' the prefect concluded, 'I've made my decision. The orders stand and will be carried out. The briefing is over. Centurion Postumus will have written orders prepared for the relevant officers. Good day, gentlemen.'

The benches scraped over the flagstones as the officers rose and stood to attention. Scrofa collected up his slates and left the room. Once he was gone Postumus called out, 'At ease!' and the officers relaxed again.

Cato nudged his friend. 'I think we should have a word with Centurion Parmenion.'

Macro nodded, then glanced round at the other officers, slowly dispersing to carry out the day's duties. 'Yes, but not in front of the rest. Perhaps we should ask him to show us round the fort. No harm in that. Only natural that new arrivals should want to look over the place.'

07 The Eagle In the Sand