The Iron Hand of Mars by Lindsey Davis Page A

for further action without having the consideration to be actually dead. This poor fellow failed to qualify for either a tombstone or his veteran’s retirement land-grant; he had limped back to Rome, where only the corn dole and his fellow-citizens’ consciences stood between him and starvation. Mine seemed to be the only active conscience this week, and it seemed a normal week.
    â€œTell me your name and legion?”
    â€œBalbillus. I was in the Thirteenth.”
    â€œDid that include the battles at Cremona?”
    â€œBedriacum? Only the first.”
    Vitellius had fought both his important battles—against Otho, whom he defeated, and Vespasian, who defeated him—in the same place: a village called Bedriacum, near Cremona. Don’t find this confusing. Once he had selected a decent spot with a river view and interesting features, why should he change?
    â€œBedriacum will do. I want to hear about the conduct of the Fourteenth.”
    Balbillus laughed. The XIV Gemina tended to produce a derisive reaction. “My lot drank with them sometimes…” I took the hint and procured him liquid encouragement. “So what do you want?” He was out of the army, on the worst possible terms; he had nothing to lose from democratic free speech.
    â€œI need background. Only recent stuff. You can omit the Fourteenth’s glorious feat against Queen Boudicca.”
    We both laughed that time.
    â€œThey always were a stroppy lot,” Balbillus commented.
    â€œOh yes. If you care to study history, the reason the Divine Claudius chose them to conquer Britain was that he needed to keep them occupied. Even thirty years ago they were disruptive. Something about serving in Germany apparently leads to mutiny!” Everything about it, if I was any judge. “So, Balbillus, tell me the florid details. First, how did they react to Vespasian?”
    This was a risky question, but he half answered me: “There were plenty of mixed feelings around.”
    â€œOh I know. In the Year of the Four Emperors, people had to readjust their positions every time a new man took the stage.” I could not recall adjusting mine. That was because I had, as usual, despised the entire list of candidates. “I’m assuming all the British legions viewed Vespasian as one of their own?”
    Balbillus disagreed. “A lot of officers and men in the British legions had been promoted by Vitellius.”
    No wonder Vespasian was now so keen to send Britain a new governor he could trust. Petilius Cerialis must be sailing across the Gallic Strait with a brief to weed out dissent.
    Balbillus tore at a piece of bread. “There were some very strange scenes in Britain.”
    I shoved an olive bowl his way. “What happened? The scandalous version, if possible!”
    â€œThe Fourteenth told us the British governor had upset his troops even more than governors normally do.” This burst of cynical wit endeared the ex-soldier to me even more than his pathetic wound. “He had a running feud with the legate of the Twentieth Valeria.” I had run across them in my service days. Dull, though competent. “The war inflamed the row, the troops sided with the legate, and the governor actually had to flee the province.”
    â€œJupiter! Whatever happened to Britain?”
    â€œThe legionary commanders formed a committee to run things. The Fourteenth seemed rather sorry to be missing it.”
    I whistled. “Nothing of this jolly scandal got out!”
    â€œI expect in a wild bog like Britain,” Balbillus confided sarcastically, “unusual arrangements seem perfectly natural!”
    I was thinking about my own problem. “Anyway, this means when the Fourteenth crossed to Europe, they already had a habit of inventing their own orders? Not to mention infighting.”
    â€œYou mean the Batavians?”
    â€œYes, especially their escapade at Augusta Taurinorum. They were