Free Nobody Loves a Centurion by John Maddox Roberts

battlefield at all. It is by means of these spurious distinctions that men are duped into behavior contrary to their best interests.
    “Any activity from the barbarians?” I asked.
    “Not a sound yet, sir. But they’re out there, you can be sure of that. We’ll be dodging arrows and javelins and stones before long. That rampart’s too thinly guarded, even if the auxiliawere good for anything. The savages can make it across by ones and twos. Can’t do any real damage that way, but they can harass us.”
    “Keeps us on our toes,” said the other phlegmatically.
    About the middle of the north wall I found a pair of sentries muttering in low-voiced conversation.
    “You’ll never hear the barbarians coming if you keep that up,” I said when I was ten feet away. They turned around rather stiffly and raised their weapons.
    “Watchword!” one of them challenged, barely above a whisper.
    “Hercules unconquered,” I replied as quietly. No sense making the enemy a gift of the watchword.
    “Patron!” said the challenger. “I didn’t know you had officer of the guard tonight.”
    “Burrus? Is this the First Century’s section?”
    “It is tonight. Each man is supposed to pull sentry duty every third night. Nobody will get much sleep now that the guard’s doubled.” He jerked his head toward the other man. A pilum in one hand and a massive scutum on the other arm limit the possibilities for gesticulation. “This is Marcus Quadratus. He’s in my contubernium .”
    The other man’s helmet bobbed. “Good evening, Senator. Burrus never tires of telling us that his family are clients of the Metelli.”
    “Arpinum?” I hazarded, guessing at his accent.
    He grinned. “That’s right. Home town of Cicero and Caius Marius.”
    “What was it Homer said of Ithaca?” I mused. “ ‘A small place, but a good breeder of men.’ “ The man moved as stifflyas Burrus and I presumed it was for the same reason. “You seem to have received the personal attention of your centurion just like Burrus.”
    Quadratus glanced sidelong at Burrus, who nodded.
    “He’s broken three vinestaffs over my back in the last five days. His option’s taken to carrying a bundle of them under his arm and passing him a new one when he breaks one over somebody.”
    “Is the whole century getting this treatment?” I asked. Even for a senior centurion this was extreme behavior.
    “He’s rough on everybody,” Burrus said, “but it’s just our contubernium that’s singled out for special punishment.”
    “But why? Is it always the woman? Is your tent closest to his, giving you more opportunity to appreciate her?”
    Quadratus managed a rueful smile. “No, she’s just an excuse. He’ll find a speck of rust on our mail at morning inspection, or somebody’s marching out of step. The woman’s the best reason to get flogged, though. At least then you’re getting something for the punishment you absorb.”
    “Why does he have it in for your contubernium? ”
    “Don’t think we haven’t asked ourselves, sir,” Burrus said. “Some think he’s just insane, but I think he’s using us to make a point and cement his control of the Tenth.”
    “How is that?” I asked, mystified as always by legion politics, which can be every bit as complicated and cutthroat as the Forum kind. Burrus enlightened me.
    “He’s only been primus pilus since Caesar took over a little more than a month ago. That was when Caius Facilis, the old First Spear, retired. It always takes a while for the men to accept a new man as the one with the power of life and death. I think he’s trying to drive us to mutiny.”
    “Executing a whole contubernium would drive the point home pretty thoroughly,” Quadratus said. “I don’t think anyone would question his authority after that.”
    I had heard horror stories like this before, but it was disquieting to run across an example firsthand, if they were correct. The oddest thing was that they did not act as if this