An urgent demand arose that the customary fees to centurions
for granting furlough should be abolished, for they constituted a sort
of annual tax upon the common soldier. The result had been that a
quarter of each company could go off on leave or lounge idly about the
barracks, so long as they paid the centurion his fee, nor was there
any one to control either the amount of this impost or the means by
which the soldiers raised the money: highway robbery or menial service
was the usual resort whereby they purchased leisure. Then, again, a
soldier who had money was savagely burdened with work until he should
buy exemption. Thus he soon became impoverished and enervated by
idleness, and returned to his company no longer a man of means and
energy but penniless and lazy. So the process went on. One after
another they became deteriorated by poverty and lax discipline,
rushing blindly into quarrels and mutiny, and, as a last resource,
into civil war. Otho was afraid of alienating the centurions by his
concessions to the rank and file, and promised to pay the annual
furlough-fees out of his private purse. This was indubitably a sound
reform, which good emperors have since established as a regular custom
in the army. The prefect Laco he pretended to banish to an island, but
on his arrival he was stabbed by a reservist[76] whom Otho had
previously dispatched for that purpose. Marcianus Icelus, as being one
of his own freedmen,[77] he sentenced to public execution.
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