Final Campaign

army tothis spot. With all that done, I returned to the fortress, hopingto find a quiet place to rest for a bit, and to get my own woundlooked at. Returning through the north gate, the scene was now muchdifferent. Our wounded had been moved to one of the barracksbuildings, which would serve as the hospital for the rest of thetime we were conducting the siege, while our dead were laid outsidethe building next to the interior eastern wall. The Serdi dead werecarried outside the fortress by the prisoners, where they would beburied in a mass grave. All in all, it was a scene of Romanefficiency and organization, and a reminder of why we rule most ofthe known world. As quickly as the men were working, the day wasstill rapidly coming to a close, and it was becoming apparent thatwe would not have time to move the camp unless the men worked intothe dark. Although the road between the two camps was clearlymarked and not excessively rough, it was not a smoothly paved Romanroad, and the last thing we needed were more men injured fromstumbling in the dark. This meant that the men of the13^th would be forced to spend the night out of theirtents, but more importantly, it meant that they would not havetheir grindstones, camp ovens, and cooking pots. I could just hearthe complaining, yet it could not be helped. However, I could makesome of the men more comfortable and, to that end, I calledMacrinus to my side from where he had been holding a meeting withhis Centurions.

“I’m going to put as many of your men aswill fit into the barracks that aren’t being used for the hospital,starting with the Third, Fifth, and First.”

Macrinus smiled, showing he appreciated mygesture, and went to tell the respective Pili Priores while Icontinued on to the building being used as a hospital. I heardsomeone call my name and saw Diocles hurrying up to me. Heinspected me carefully, and I had to fight a smile as my littleGreek walked around me, clucking like a hen at my minor wound.

“That needs to be sewn up.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that,” I said dryly.“That’s why I was headed to where the people who can do that arelocated.”

“You don’t have to be smart about it,” hesaid huffily.

I didnot reply, instead handing him Ocelus’reins, then walked into the hospital. I had to stop for a moment tolet my eyes adjust, but after they did, I wished I hadn’t taken thetime. As many times as I have seen this, and been part of it, Ihave never become accustomed to the sight of so many men suffering.What the eyes take in is bad enough. Making it truly horrible arethe sounds of men in pain, along with the smells of cauterizedflesh, blood, puke, shit, and piss. The combination of all this isenough to make the stomach churn, no matter how many times you areexposed to it. My injury seemed so trivial in comparison to what Iwas seeing that I felt a momentary sense of shame that I was evenstanding there, yet I knew that if it was not cleaned and stitchedup, it would corrupt, so I waved to a medici who was betweenpatients. He directed me to a broken stool, left over from theoriginal inhabitants who had been kind enough to leave the entirebarracks furnished with cots and the personal effects of the menwho had occupied them up until this morning. Of course, all theseeffects had been thoroughly searched and looted, I was sure by themedical staff, yet I did not begrudge them whatever they found.Taking a seat, I unstrapped my greave, caked with blood, and set itaside while the orderly made his preparations, bringing a bowl ofwater, and a cloth that looked as if it had been used on quite afew other men. He dipped the cloth in the water and beganscrubbing; first around the wound before moving to the gash itself.I tried not to start at the flash of pain, gritting my teeth andreminding myself that I was the Camp Prefect, and there were menwith much more serious wounds than mine. Still, my jaw ached by thetime he was through cleaning the wound before producing a curvedneedle and waxed thread. Somewhat surprisingly, this did not hurtnearly as much as the cleaning, and in no more than a moment ortwo, he was finished, the wound now a clean, straight line, aroundwhich he wrapped a linen bandage. I left the building, running intoMacrinus, and I instantly saw from his expression that somethingwas amiss.

“Prefect, I appreciate what you wanted to dofor the men, regardless of how it turned out.”

I stared at him, not understanding what hewas talking about, and I told Macrinus to explain.

“We’ve been informed that the other barracksbuildings are not for our use; they’ve been reserved for thePraetor,” he explained.

“Pluto’s cock.” It was all I could do tokeep from shouting. I took a deep breath to regain a semblance ofcontrol. “I will talk to Primus about it.”

“Should I have the men wait?”

“No,” I was emphatic. “Go ahead and havethem get settled in. I’m going to see him now.”

This meant I had to negotiate the laddersagain, and the stitches had made my leg stiff, making it even moredifficult than before. I almost fell twice, but I managed to avoidlooking like a fool and taking a tumble that could have seriouslyhurt me in the bargain. The Praetor was still seated under theawning, with Masala nowhere in sight, leaving only a half dozenslaves to wait on Marcus Primus. I was puffing a bit from the climbup the slope to the rise where he was seated, yet before I hadgotten within a dozen paces, I could see that the Praetor wasdrunk. An empty jug was lying next to the bucket, and another onehad replaced it, along with a fresh supply of snow. At least thewine had put Primus in a jovial frame of mind, and he greeted mewith an actual smile as I approached.

“Prefect Pullus, you are a sight!”

He waved to me, pointing to a