Firebrand

Chapter 644: A Question of Authority

A Question of Authority

In the following days, Martel got a taste of what it meant to hold imperium over even just a small town like Esmouth. While Eleanor and Lara oversaw administrative tasks and his prefects trained their cohorts, Martel had to listen to disputes, settle complaints, and cast judgement as needed.

A merchant vessel, bringing supplies to the Tenth Legion, had been placed under guard and refused permission to leave to prevent them from spreading the news of the mutiny too early. Furthermore, provisions intended for the northern legions had been seized. The captain appeared and argued his case, demanding immediate permission to leave along with compensation for the seized goods and being forced to breach his contract supplying the other legions.

Martel, using the atrium of the previous legate's house as audience chamber, listened intently and granted the captain permission to leave in a fiveday, giving his own couriers enough time to reach Morcaster first. He denied compensation; the legion needed all its silver to pay its own legionaries.

A fight had erupted in The Salty Mug between a legionary and a resident of Esmouth. Martel heard testimony from each involved; the latter had provoked the former, who in turn had broken his nose. Hearing that customary punishment for minor breaches of discipline was five lashes, Martel balked; instead, he sentenced the legionary to do night watch for a month. Besides punishing him, it would keep him from making trouble during the late hours. He gave no compensation to the local, who had provoked the fight; the man grumbled, but had to accept the judgement.

Every fisherman in Esmouth appeared to make a collective appeal; sometimes, the legionaries guarding the piers pursued their orders to keep ships in harbour with particular zeal, denying the fishermen to sail out on their boats. Martel sighed and had his clerk make a statement that the ban did not apply to fishing vessels, which he signed and handed over.

The wife of Legate Varus appeared; hearing a ship was bound for Morcaster, she wanted to leave with her family. Martel had no interest in keeping them as prisoners and granted the request.

Another fight, this time at the brothel. A legionary and a Tyrian both interested in the same woman. Knives had been drawn, causing superficial injuries to both. Martel gave the soldier the same punishment of night duty as in the other case; he figured it would work just as well here. As for the Tyrian, Martel handed him over to Starkad for the berserker to decide a fitting punishment. This did not sit well with the Asterians, but Martel's decisions were final; his verdicts served as the law of the land.

***

The captain prefect looked at the clerk assisting him, whom he had inherited from his predecessor. "Did Varus spend all his days listening to people complain as well?"

"Goodness, no. The – former legate rarely troubled himself with this. If a matter came to his attention, he would choose a prefect and have them handle it," the scribe explained. "But most of the time, he just refused to give audience."

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

"I see the appeal of that, though it seems a short-sighted solution to all these issues."

"With your allowance, sir, a lot of these problems have only arisen recently."

Martel glanced at the man. "After I took over, you mean."

"No disrespect intended, sir," the man said apprehensively. "It is not your doing personally. Just, life has been interrupted in Esmouth. It makes knots on every thread."

"Right. Anybody else waiting?"

"Plenty, sir."

"Of course. Send in the next one."

***

After more than three fivedays, Martel regretted accepting the position as captain prefect. As news spread that unlike the previous legate, he gave audience to listen to grievances, more and more people waited outside the house each day. Some dug up old complaints, grudges remembered, and Martel eventually had to declare he would not judge any matter more than a year old.

In the evenings, he returned to camp, where Eleanor and Lara informed him of anything relevant. The legion had supplies to last until winter, but not much beyond; if this dragged out, they would have to find more. The legion's treasury contained enough money to pay wages for another year, but eventually, that might become an issue too. Lastly, three men had been caught trying to desert.

"You must make an example of them," the legion prefect urged. "There will be hundreds more considering the same. They must be executed."

Unease filled Martel. "I'm not comfortable with that."

"You are a battlemage, sir. You are no stranger to causing men's demise," Lara pointed out.

"Commander Azar did the same in his camp, if you remember," Eleanor reminded him.

"If someone's trying to kill me, I'll fight back. But these men were just trying to get away. Death can't be the only way to solve this," Martel argued.

"Yet it is. Anything less means they can try again. It will embolden others." Lara gave him an insistent look.

"The whole point of our mutiny is to end the killing – we rebelled against our leaders because they sent us to our deaths," the captain prefect retorted. "If we do the same, how long before our soldiers turn on us?"

"The legionaries know the punishment for desertion is execution," the legion prefect replied.

"Right. Like I should have been executed for desertion."

Lara's mouth became a thin line. "That is a different situation. You had no choice, given what Legate Varus demanded of you."

"And I'm sure these men thought they had no choice either, given the risk they took. I will not become what we replaced," Martel impressed upon them. "We use prisoners of war for labour, correct?"

"If we had any, yes," Eleanor said.

"Confiscate all their silver and equipment. Place them in chains and have them work for us for the next six months. Once they have done that, they may be reinstated as legionaries or be released from their contract," Martel declared.

"You will let them go?" Lara exclaimed in shock.

"You want to take them back?" Eleanor raised her eyebrows.

"We are not killing our own. They broke the rules and must be punished, but as a former deserter, I can't very well argue they should die or be beyond forgiveness. If they are so fearful to be here that they would risk execution to flee, let them leave."

"This will only encourage others," the legion prefect warned him.

"I'm not captain because the emperor appointed me or any such flimsy authority. I command these men because they have chosen me," Martel said. "How can I reward their trust with executions? No, this decision is final."

Lara clenched her jaw. "Very well, captain."

"Sir!" Theodore, one of the mageknights, entered the big tent accompanied by a soldier. "A patrol just returned. You should hear this."

The legionary, out of breath, gave a salute. "Up north, sir, just beyond the marshes. Lots and lots of legionaries marching."

"How many?" Eleanor asked sharply.

"Can't say, sir. But if we saw just the vanguard, they must be thousands. Had to retreat fast, sir, they threw javelins at us."

"They have come for a fight," Theodore said.

Lara looked at the captain prefect. "The north-eastern legions. Sir, we have a civil war on our hands."