‘Narcissus?’ Vitellius muttered, just loud enough to be heard by the others.

‘Narcissus.’ Vespasian nodded. ‘You don’t seem to approve, Vitellius.’

‘I’m not sure I approve of any man who wields power disproportionate to his social standing, if I may be so bold, sir.’ Some of the other tribunes — those unaware of their legate’s provincial origins — laughed.

‘What I meant to say, sir,’ Vitellius continued, ‘is that I’m not sure why the Emperor would find it necessary to send his freedman… his chief secretary, to deal with the situation in person. It’s not as if it’s something the army can’t handle for itself.’

‘It’s a big operation,’ Vespasian replied. ‘I would have thought Narcissus would want to make sure it ran as smoothly as possible, for the Emperor’s sake.’

‘Nevertheless, it is peculiar, sir,’ Plinius added quietly.

Vespasian leaned back from the table. ‘There is nothing peculiar in this. You know the man’s reputation — he’s more gauche than sinister. Narcissus will be escorted to the coast and that’s the end of it. If he’s playing a deeper game then it’s one I’m not aware of. Or perhaps some of you gentlemen are privy to information that is being withheld from me. Well?’

No one dared meet his eye, either through guilt or fear of seeming guilty, and Vespasian sighed wearily. ‘I’m getting just a little sick of high politics at the moment, gentlemen. Whatever our futures hold, we happen to be soldiers under strict orders which I intend to obey to the best of my ability. All other considerations should be pushed from your minds. Do I make myself clear? Good! Now, I don’t need to remind you of the need for strict secrecy in this matter. If word of the mutiny spreads to our men then the entire army is as good as useless. Jupiter knows how it’ll end. Any questions?’

The tribunes remained silent.

‘Your orders for tomorrow will be passed to you before morning assembly. Dismissed.’

===OO=OOO=OO===

Later, with an empty tent to himself, Vespasian lay back on the couch and closed his eyes. From all around came the sounds of the Legion settling in for the night; the shouts of sentries and duty officers, the hubbub of men relaxing after the day’s exertion, even some laughter. That was good. As long as the men were happy he could be sure that they remained loyal to the authority that bound them all together. Mutiny was the one thing that a commander feared above everything else. After all, what was it that compelled thousands of men to bend their efforts to his will, even to the point of death? The moment the common soldiery decided to disobey their officers the army ceased to be.

The news from the coast was bad, and by now would be spreading east down the roads. It was only a matter of time before the Legion ran into the rumours seeping out from Gesoriacum. Then he would have to proceed with the utmost caution; a fine balance would be needed between upholding the harsh discipline of everyday army life and not provoking the men into open revolt. He wondered about the loyalty of the rank and file. They seemed to respect him well enough and had done little to disappoint him on the march so far. The grizzled senior centurion had assured him that there were far fewer stragglers than normal for such a hard march. And yet he couldn’t help wondering how fickle those men outside his tent headquarters might prove to be if given the chance. The mutiny had to be quashed so the invasion could proceed. Narcissus had better be as good an operator as his reputation suggested. Certainly Flavia believed he would be up to the job, when the matter had been quietly discussed over dinner.