The Return by Harry Sidebottom

Author:Harry Sidebottom
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Bonnier Publishing Fiction

CHAPTER 16

Militia

608 Ab Urbe Condita (146 BC)

THE WHITE CLIFFS WERE NAMED without any imagination. A few miles south of Megara the mountains came down close to the sea. Where the rocks showed through the vegetation, they were a pale grey, perhaps even white here and there. The ancient Greeks might have invented philosophy and drama and history, but they had not been so creative with place names.

Three days before, the rest of Paullus’ legion had staggered into Megara, footsore and depleted. In the relentless march from Dyrrachium much equipment had been worn out or discarded. On the first roll call it was discovered that no fewer than four hundred soldiers from a strength of over four thousand were absent. Nevertheless the legion had been sent ahead to help guard the isthmus.

The White Cliffs made a terrible campsite. The allies from the Kingdom of Pergamum had already claimed the only area of flat land where the cliffs pulled back from the Saronic Gulf. The tents of the legion were crowded almost on top of each other on either side of the road between the water and the rock face. There was no question of laying out a regular marching camp. There was not enough soil to dig a ditch or build a rampart. The stakes of the palisade were tied together in threes to create an impromptu barrier. But they stood on bare rock, and could be shifted easily. And the guy ropes of the tents were secured flimsily by piles of stones. Unable to dig latrines, the men relieved themselves in the water. It was hot, and the nearly tideless sea soon stank. If they stayed here long, disease was certain to spread. The White Cliffs were a stepmother of a camp.

‘What did Metellus mean about Spain?’ Paullus was sitting with Alcimus and Tatius. To get away from the claustrophobic noise and stench, they had scrambled up the cliff to a ledge.

‘No idea.’ Alcimus yawned. Had he not been so close with his friends, probably he would have been resting in the shade of the tent with the three remaining Sabines. The latter seemed to spend most of their time off duty sleeping. When awake, they were men of very few words.

‘But you have no idea about anything, my little backwoods yokel.’ Tatius liked to cast himself in the role of the metropolitan expert on every subject. ‘A few years ago, when Mummius was praetor, he led eleven thousand men into the far west against the Lusitanians. They got ambushed. Only five thousand got out.’

‘But I thought Mummius was awarded a triumph,’ Paullus said.

‘His was only the latest in a string of defeats in Hispania. The Roman public needed some good news. When Mummius massacred a Lusitanian raiding party across the straits in Africa, he was given a triumph.’

‘So Metellus was right,’ Paullus said. ‘Mummius took a huge risk sending away Metellus’ men and relying on the allies to hold the isthmus until the rest of the army arrived.’

‘Not at all, my friend.

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