The Leopard Sword: Empire IV Read Online Free PDF Page A

barked a terse order to Qadir to watch the ranks and walked forward to see what was happening. He passed the back of the leading century and the reason for the unscheduled halt became clear: a twenty-foot-high stone wall loomed out of the mist. A group of bemused centurions were gathered around a pair of massive wooden gates set in an imposing stone archway that barred the cohorts’ route into the city. The first spear was craning his neck to call up to a pair of soldiers who in turn were peering down into the mist with looks of deep suspicion.
    ‘Just open the bloody gates and we’ll worry about the paperwork later. I’ve got two full cohorts of soldiers slowly freezing their balls off out here, and I want them in barracks before dark.’
    Julius, who was standing behind the senior centurion with a grim look on his dark, bearded face, shook his head at Marcus.
    ‘This isn’t going to end well. Those are legion troops if I’m not mistaken, and whenever the road menders get involved there’s usually grief.’
    Another soldier appeared on the walls, this one wearing the feathered and crested helmet of a legion chosen man. He spoke to the guards for a moment, then leaned out and called down to the auxiliaries gathered below.
    ‘I’m sorry, Centurion. I’m under strict orders not to open the gates without permission from my own officer. I’ve sent one of my men to find him, but until he gets here there’s no way I can let you in.’
    He spread his hands to convey his helplessness with the situation, and then disappeared from sight to leave the first spear fuming with anger.
    ‘Was that segmented armour I saw before that man went to hide from the wrath of an infuriated first spear?’
    The centurions turned to find Tribune Scaurus standing behind them with a questioning look on his face. Frontinius nodded grimly, his face creased with anger.
    ‘Yes, Tribune. It would appear that the regulars have got here before us.’
    Scaurus looked out into the swirling mist for a moment.
    ‘And I suppose that if we leave this to take its apparent course, the men could be standing around here for quite a while.’
    Frontinius nodded again, the angry lines of his expression softening as he turned a quizzical gaze on his superior.
    The tribune nodded at him, cleared his throat, and shouted up at the apparently deserted wall.
    ‘
Chosen Man!
Show yourself!’ After a long silence the chosen man looked over the wall again, his face falling when he saw the tribune staring up at him. Scaurus lifted his cloak, showing the other man his finely wrought bronze plate armour, sculpted to resemble a muscled torso. ‘Have a good look, Chosen Man! You’ll observe that I’m not a centurion but the commander of these cohorts, and not without influence, or an understanding of how things work. Which legion might this be that I’m talking with, I wonder? Either the “grunts”
or the “scribblers”,
I’d guess. Which is it, Chosen Man?’
    The chosen man sprang to attention.
    ‘First Minervia Faithful and Loyal, Tribune!’
    Scaurus smiled, muttering quietly to himself.
    ‘
Got you
.’ He looked up at the chosen man for a long moment before speaking again. ‘The “grunts”, then. First Minervia, Faithful and Loyal. A proud name for a proud legion. Tell me, Chosen Man, is that sour-faced old bastard Gladio still First Spear of the Third Cohort?’
    The chosen man squinted down at him, clearly wondering just how much influence this unknown tribune might have with his own officers. His answer was carefully balanced to avoid giving any potential offence.
    ‘Yes, sir. He’s still as cheerful as he ever was.’
    Calculating that the moment to attack had arrived, Scaurus raised his voice to an enraged bellow.
    ‘Well, if I’m not through those fucking gates before I’ve counted to thirty, you’ll soon find out that I’m a good deal less sunny of character than he is, and a good deal more vindictive! Do you understand me?’ The chosen