Final Campaign

my own situation. I had a sizable gash on my leftshin, just above the greave that looked like it would need to besewn up, although it had managed to stop bleeding. Otherwise, I wasunhurt, much to my surprise, and when I went to check Gaius, I waspleased to see that he was unwounded as well. Men were beingorganized to go through the bodies where they lay in piles to lookfor our own men who had fallen, and to drag the Serdi bodies intoone massive pile. Feeling the tension and anger slowly drainingfrom my body, I was hit with an almost overwhelming sense ofdrowsiness, and at that moment only wanted to find a place to liedown and sleep. That was out of the question, naturally, yet Isuppose I fell into a kind of daze standing there watching theaftermath of the fight, so that when I heard someone call my name,it almost made me jump out of my skin. Turning to find the runner Ihad sent to inform Primus standing there, panting from the exertionof crossing the rubble pile twice, I returned his salute.

“The Praetor demands your presenceimmediately, Prefect,” he gasped, his tone apologetic for theperemptorily worded order.

Unlike some men I had known, like MarcusAntonius, I never punished the messenger for relaying a message, nomatter how infuriating it might have been. I dismissed the man,telling him to catch his breath while I went to face the Praetor.Navigating the ladders in the opposite direction, I marveled thatwe had been able to ascend the rubble pile at all. Looking down, itappeared to be so steep that I hesitated for a moment before takingthe first step and, by the time I reached the bottom, my legs wereshaking from the effort of maintaining my balance. I paused tocatch my breath and collect my thoughts before walking over towhere Marcus Primus was now seated in his curule chair, under anawning that had been rigged to provide shade. Next to his chair wasa bucket that had been filled with snow, undoubtedly fetched by oneof his slaves from the nearby peak, and nestled in the bucket was ajug of wine. Primus was sampling some of that wine, drinking from agold goblet and smacking his lips appreciatively, a look ofsatisfaction on his face. Until he looked up and saw meapproaching, at least, whereupon his expression immediatelychanged, his lips thrust out in that pout I had come to despise.The moment I was within shouting distance, the fat little manstood, pudgy hands on his hips, looking down at me mounting therise.

“Prefect, what’s this nonsense about thefortress being taken?”

“It has been,” I confirmed. “The men arefinishing up securing the prisoners and attending to ourwounded.”

“Prisoners?”

Primus seemed confused by the very conceptof prisoners.

“Yes, the rest of the garrison surrenderedto me, and I accepted.”

“Who told you to do that?”

“Nobody,” I admitted. “But the alternativewas to continue fighting and lose more men for nothing. The battlewas won, and the Serdi knew it, which is why they surrendered.”

“That’s not your decision to make,” Primusretorted. “You should have sent for me, and I would have madeit.”

“Are you saying that you want me to give thefortress back?” I asked mildly. “Or are you saying that youwouldn’t have accepted the surrender?”

This made him pause, his face turningred.

“No, that is not what I am saying,” hefumed. “I’m just saying that I should have been consulted.”

“I apologize, Praetor.” I did not mean it,but he was actually correct. He looked surprised, and I suppose hehad been prepared for an argument.

“Well, regardless, we have the fortress, andnow we can move on Serdica.”

“After the men have a rest,” I amended.

“Of course,” he said irritably. “We’ll givethem the rest of the day, then we can move on Serdica in themorning.”

Despite the fact he was again ignoring thetraditional rest, I actually agreed with this, knowing that thesooner we could put pressure on the city, the better. The13^th was fresh and rested, although their remaining thatway depended on whether or not they ran into any trouble on theroad to Serdica. I remained standing there, despite Primus makingit clear that I had been dismissed.

“What is it? I don’t suppose you want somechilled wine, do you?” He could not have sounded less gracious, andwhile the idea of a cold drink was appealing, that was not why Iremained in place.

“The prisoners?”

Primus grimaced, setting his cup down.

“Ah, yes. I had forgotten about them.”

I was bracing for an argument, especiallygiven our last conflict over prisoners, but I was in for asurprise.

“Keep them,” he ordered. “They might beuseful for bargaining later.”

That was true enough, yet I was not sure whywe would need to bargain with the Serdi, given this was asupposedly punitive expedition aimed at punishing the Triballi.Still, I was just relieved that he did not give the order toslaughter them, because that is something that no matter whatcivilians think, most fighting men do not relish. There is no honorin killing unarmed and helpless prisoners, and while we allrecognized that there were times we had no choice for whateverreason, I only knew a few men who actually enjoyed and lookedforward to doing the job. My long-departed tent mate, SpuriusDidius, had been one of those, and Balbus had been close to him,except he was more indifferent to the idea of plunging his swordinto the chest of a helpless person than actually enjoying it.

I saluted and departed the area beforePrimus could change his mind or give some other ridiculous order.My next order of business was to find out how the Third and theFifth were faring, and if the 13^th had run into trouble.I paused to examine my choices; I could either ride Ocelus the longway around, taking the road, which would be easier unless I pushedhim and would take longer regardless, or I could ascend up theshaky ladders again, then exit the northern gate, taking the moredirect route, just on foot. I opted for the former, the decisionmade easier by the combination of my growing fatigue and the factthat Diocles had been keeping Ocelus on the rise near Primus.Calling for my horse, I mounted and immediately started