Final Campaign

effort from them, I took a breath and began to close on theremaining Serdi when I heard yet another shout, but this was ofalarm and not triumph. I looked behind me where the shout hademanated to see a crack of light appear at the north gate,gradually widening as it opened, and I was suddenly sure that itwas the relieving force sent from Serdica arriving. This of coursemeant that the Third and Fifth had indeed been overwhelmed. I wasclearly not the only one who thought this, hearing a chorus ofcurses and groans at the sight of the daylight appearing. But wewere lucky; it was in fact a group of Thracians who had made it tothe northern gate and opened it, trying to escape. Most of themwere cut down in the attempt, just a handful managing to getoutside the walls. Turning back to the remaining Serdi before us, Itook a step toward them, when on some unseen signal, the Thraciansof the front rank suddenly dropped their weapons, the clanging ofmetal on metal sounding harshly above all the other noise. Thesemen were taking a huge risk in surrendering to us, yet theircomrades farther back quickly followed suit, throwing their weaponsdown as well. Now the sound could not be ignored by any of the menstill fighting. Like a wave moving across the open ground of thefortress, Serdi that were not actually engaged followed the exampleof their comrades and surrendered until there were just isolatedpockets of fighting, prompting our men to look to their Centurionsfor orders. In turn, the Centurions looked to their Pili Priores,who looked to the Primus Pilus, Macrinus, who came trotting up tome.

“Do we accept their surrender, or put themto the sword?”

Matters would have been so much easier ifthe Thracians had simply continued to fight. Now I was faced withmaking a decision, starting with whether I involved Primus or not.Knowing that this would take time, and that it was extremely likelythat Primus would not make a quick decision, or make a decisionthat would sit well with the men, I tried to decide on my own.Being fair, I had to acknowledge that Primus was so disliked by thearmy by this point, particularly after his words that morning, thatany decision he made would be the wrong one in the men’s eyes.Perhaps this was what served as the spur for my decision, yet myown contempt for the Praetor made the decision easier.

“We accept their surrender.”

Macrinus looked relieved, and I knew that hewas thinking of the men that he would lose if we continued. Thiswas in my mind as well, along with that same nagging feeling thatthere were things about this campaign that just did not make sense.It is easy to say that; looking back, I was determined to take someaction that would appear favorable to anyone that chose to secondguess this expedition because of the damage that it did to ourrelations with the Thracian tribes in general. Of course, there wasonly one man that I was concerned with, and whose judgment meantanything, and that was Octavian, the supposed secret general ofthis campaign. I just don’t know if that is the truth; it isequally possible that I chose to accept the surrender because Iknew that it would undoubtedly goad Marcus Primus. Either way, thedecision was made, and the men of the 8^th began thetransition from an all-out assault to essentially acting asprovosts, which in practice is much messier than it sounds. Onecannot simply go from fighting to the death one moment, with apounding heart, the fear tasting coppery in your mouth as youthrust your blade into another man’s gut, to then suddenly stop andinstead take the man alive as easily as one snuffs out a lamp.Simply put, the killing did not stop for several moments, theLegionaries taking out their anger and fear on men who had throwndown their weapons. Some Serdi, realizing that their captors werestill in the grips of the killing madness, made desperate attemptsto retrieve their weapons and at least die fighting. Some managed,some did not, and all died nonetheless. Those Thracians who hadmanaged to slip inside the barracks buildings refused to come out,and we were forced to send men in to finish them off.

While the men carried out the disarming andsecuring of the Serdi who had surrendered, separating the noblesfrom the lower class of warriors, I knew that I could no longer putoff informing Primus. However, I still was not willing to see himface to face. Instead, I sent a runner, writing a quick note on awax tablet informing him that the fortress had essentially beentaken. At the same time, I sent another runner to Flaminius,alerting him to take his Legion north up the road toward Serdica torelieve the Third and Fifth Cohort, confident that a full Legioncould handle any size force the Thracians might have sent from thecity, realizing as I did that this was something I should have donelong before. I could only hope that it was not too late. Finally, Ihad Macrinus send three Centuries from the men already in thefortress out through the northern gate by the most direct route toreinforce the Third and Fifth, with orders to send a report back onthe current situation. This last was to relieve the overcrowding asmuch as it was to support the Cohorts, the fortress now so crammedfull of men that it was hard to move. The combination of the deadand wounded, along with the effect of men fighting and sweating,all jammed together, made for a powerful stench: a mixture ofblood, shit, and fear sweat. There were no more sounds of a battlebeing fought, replaced instead by the moans of the wounded, theshouted commands of Centurions and the calls of comrades to eachother while they looted whatever they found from the men they weretaking prisoner. The protests of these Serdi earned them a punch,or worse and, soon enough, they lapsed into a sullen, defeatedsilence. It was only after I was sure that matters were in hand andthe seizure of the fortress was moving as smoothly as possible thatI took stock of