‘You’ve seen how the men are. They’re keen enough to learn how to use our weapons and manoeuvre as we do. But they don’t have any sense of themselves as a discrete body of soldiers. We’ve got our legions, our eagle standards, our sense of tradition. They’ve got nothing.’

‘What are you suggesting?’ Macro smirked. ‘We give them an eagle to follow?’

‘Yes. Something like that. A standard. One for each cohort. It’ll help give them a sense of identity.’

‘Maybe,’ Macro conceded. ‘But not an eagle. Those are reserved for the legions. Has to be something else.’

‘All right, then.’ Cato nodded and turned to Tincommius. ‘What do you suggest? Are there any animals that are sacred to your tribe?’

‘Plenty.’ Tincommius started counting them off on his fingers. ‘Owl, wolf, fox, boar, pike, stoat.’

‘Stoat?’ Macro laughed. ‘What the fuck is sacred about the stoat?’

‘Stoat - swift and sleek, king of stream and creek,’ Tincommius intoned.

‘Oh, great. I can see it now: First Cohort of Atrebatan Stoats. The enemy will piss themselves laughing.’

Tincommius coloured.

‘All right, so perhaps we don’t use the stoat idea,’ Cato interrupted before Macro caused too much damage to Atrebatan sensitivities. ‘I like the idea of wolf and boar. Nice sense of wildness and danger. What do you think, Tincommius?’

‘The Wolves and the Boars . . . sounds good.’

‘What about you, Macro?’

‘Fine.’

‘All right then, I’ll have some standards made up tonight. With your permission?’

Macro nodded. ‘Agreed.’

Footsteps sounded down the corridor outside, and there was a rap on the door.

‘Enter!’

A clerk stepped into the glow of the oil lamps. He held out a sealed scroll.

‘What is it?’

‘Message from the general, sir. Courier’s just arrived.’

‘Here!’ Macro reached for the scroll, broke open the seal and ran his eyes over the message while his companions sat in silence. While Macro could read well enough, it was still something of an effort, and it took a moment to digest the contents of General Plautius’ dispatch, as framed in the needlessly ornate language of staff officers with more time on their hands than they know what to do with.

‘Well,’ he drawled at length, ‘apart from a few reservations about our scope of operations, and caveats about the amount of men we place under arms, it seems that the general has given us permission to arm the, uh, Wolves and the Boars.’

04 The Eagle and the Wolves

Chapter Nine