Hunting the Eagles by Ben Kane Page A

morning?’
    ‘In the main, yes.’
    ‘A wise choice.’
    Fenestela’s opinion quashed any doubt that Tullus had had about choosing the more conservative path. He wondered about sending Degmar away for his own safety – when law broke down, men were prone to turn on those who weren’t of their kind – but decided that that wasn’t yet necessary. ‘Ready yourselves, brothers!’ he cried. ‘Back to camp.’
    A ripple passed through the ranks. Tullus wasn’t sure if it was excitement, fear or anger at his command, and his guts twisted. Would they disobey him?
    ‘Good news, sir. I’m fucking starving,’ Piso called out.
    There was a burst of laughter. ‘Me too, sir!’ cried Vitellius. ‘I’ve got a skin of wine needs finishing as well.’ In the blink of an eye, the soldiers’ mood became jovial once more. A chorus of requests to return to their tents rang out. Tullus waited until it had died down before repeating that they would each have not one, but two cups of wine apiece.
    His men cheered.
    Tullus led them off at once, hoping that the thought of free wine would remain uppermost in their minds, rather than a desire to know what was going on.
    ‘How many years has our pay been the same?’ shouted a voice from the midst of the gathering.
    ‘Twenty!’ answered a voice. ‘More than that!’ roared another. ‘Twenty-five, at the least!’ said a third.
    ‘There you are!’ cried the first voice. ‘How little the empire thinks of us to treat us so. We guard its frontier and keep the barbarians at bay. We suffer grievous wounds and lay down our lives in its name, and our reward is to be paid a pittance, and to serve until we die of old age. Why should we accept such injustice?’
    The soldiers’ reply, a swelling roar of anger, rose high into the sky.
    Relief filled Tullus as his men – who were also listening to the exchanges – kept marching. He glanced at the mob. Fists were being waved, and so were swords. Already volatile, the situation was turning dangerous. He had to consult with Caecina, he thought.
    Something had to be done, or blood would be shed.

Chapter VI

    TULLUS LED HIS men straight to the camp’s main entrance – worryingly, it was unmanned – and from there towards the
principia
, the headquarters.
    The situation had deteriorated faster than he’d thought possible. Not all the soldiers were at the gathering. Gangs thirty to fifty men strong were roaming the avenues, singing and tearing down officers’ tents. Some had been set on fire. Most of the legionaries appeared to be drunk, which suggested to Tullus that the quartermaster’s stores had already been raided. His troops, disciplined and in formation, attracted nothing more than a barrage of abuse and an occasional stone. Others weren’t so lucky, such as the optio who was set upon by a group of mutineers walking by his tent. A quick charge by Tullus and his men saw the rebellious legionaries flee, allowing the bruised and battered officer to pick himself up off the ground.
    ‘What in Hades is going on?’ demanded Tullus as the optio gabbled his thanks.
    ‘It started not long after the morning meal, sir. Some say it began in the Twenty-First, others in the Fifth. The officers started getting it first. Insults, catcalls, you can imagine.’ The optio wiped a string of bloody snot from his broken nose. ‘Things got out of hand when some fool of a centurion – begging your pardon, sir – drew his sword. They turned on him like a pack of starving wolves, cut him limb from limb.’
    Tullus absorbed this news with a rising sense of horror, and anger. It had been a mistake to go on the patrol – he should have ignored Septimius’ orders and gone straight to Caecina. Yet he was unsure if it would have made any difference – Varus hadn’t listened to him. Nor had Septimius. Would Caecina have been any different? It was too late to find out now in any case. It was also time for Degmar to go. ‘Degmar,’ he called.
    The