Final Campaign

he was. Perched atophis head was a helmet, clearly made by the same craftsman, butessentially with the same problem as the cuirass in that it wasobviously too small for his head. The plumes were ostrich, dyed thesame color scarlet as his cloak and sash, but they were ludicrouslytall, jutting a good two feet above the crest of the helmet.Completing the outfit was a handsomely worked scabbard, with thetraditional ivory handled sword, carved into the likeness of aneagle. However, even from where I was standing, I could see thatthere was absolutely no wear on the grip, telling me that the manhad never handled this sword. And I seriously doubted that he hadever handled a sword of any type, although that was clearly not theimpression he was trying to give. He remained standing there for amoment, one hand on the hilt of his sword, head tilted at what I amsure he believed to be the proper angle to show his resolve.Unfortunately, it only served to accentuate his double chin, and ittook a moment before I understood that he was waiting for me tomake some sort of comment. I was totally at a loss, finallymanaging to muster something that apparently served its purpose,because he beamed with pleasure.

Descending the stairs, he announced grandly,“Prefect, let us go inspect my army.”

“Don’t you mean Rome’s army?” I could nothelp myself, the words just coming out, and I inwardly winced, buthe was in too much of an expansive mood to take offense.

“Yes, yes, that’s what I meant. It’s justmine to use. So let’s go take a look at the men, shall we?”

Without waiting, he went sweeping past me. Icaught the distinct whiff of some sort of perfume, I assumed fromthe pomade applied to his hair. His cape swirling behind him, thepudgy little man and I headed to the spot outside of Philippi thatwe had selected for the formation and inspection. I will say thatPrimus was superbly mounted, on a coal black stallion that wasbigger than even Ocelus, who was the largest horse I had ever seenup to that point. Even so, I still towered over the Praetor, whobounced along in the saddle, making it clear that he had spent moretime in a litter than on horseback.

Nearing the army, I could see the standardsjutting above the heads of the men of the Centuries and Cohorts,the sun’s rays catching the glint of the eagle’s wings of theLegion standards. No matter how many times I saw that sight, itstirred my heart, filling my soul with an emotion that I stillcannot adequately describe. The fact that I was escorting a buffoonwho would make a mockery of what is normally a solemn and importantoccasion, the inspection of the Legions by their Legate, elicitedfeelings of amusement and disgust in me, in equal measure.

The inspection of the 8^th and13^th Legion, along with the cavalry and auxiliarytroops, was the most farcical display I have ever witnessed in mymore than forty years under the standard. The men instantly knewthat Primus had no idea what he was doing, and took full advantageof that fact. The inspection of a Legionary, as with almosteverything Roman, is a very rigid, formal affair, done a certainway simply because it has been performed in this manner sinceanyone can remember. The inspecting officer stands directly infront of the Legionary, basically starting his inspection from thetop of the man’s head to the bottom of his feet. The inspectorfirst checks the plume of the Legionary’s helmet to make sure thatit is completely blacked, or dyed with the appropriate color. Thehelmet is examined to make sure that it is serviceable and has nocracks or dents, this being done by the Legionary doffing hishelmet to present for inspection. Primus clearly did not know this,so the men, instantly seeing and understanding, simply stood atintente, not moving a muscle. Primus had selected the8^th to start his inspection, naturally starting with theFirst Century of the First Cohort, with Macrinus on one side and meon the other. Like the men, Macrinus had instantly seen Primus forwhat he was, making no attempt to steer Primus in the rightdirection, and was content to watch straight-faced as Primus simplystood staring at the man he was facing, whose eyes were fixed atthat imaginary spot above Primus’ head. Several moments passed,while I was finding it harder with each heartbeat to keep my owncomposure. Finally, Primus turned to Macrinus in obviousconfusion.

“Is he supposed to do something?”

It was impossible to miss the sound ofsnickering from the rear ranks, and Macrinus’ face turned red.

“Silete!” he roared before Icould.

Turning to Primus, Macrinus apologizedbefore snapping at the hapless Legionary to doff his helmet, whichhe did and presented to Primus, who stared at it like it wassomething he had never seen before.

“Praetor, you’re supposed to inspect hishelmet,” I whispered.

Now it was Primus who turned red, snatchingthe helmet from the man’s hands.

He stared at it for a moment, turning itover in his hands, then handed it back to the man with a mumbled,“Very good.”

With that done, Primus stood there lookingcompletely lost, and I was sorely tempted to let him stand there,but I realized that, at this rate, the inspection of two Legionswould take several weeks. I whispered to him what was expected ofhim next, and in this manner, we conducted the inspection.Fortunately, it did not take him long to pick up what was expectedof him, and he quickly seemed to forget that he had no idea what hewas doing. By the time we had finished with the first few Cohorts,Primus was strutting about, making jokes with the men as if he wereCaesar incarnate. What he did not realize was that the men weremocking him, but they were doing it in a way that he would notunderstand. Except that I did, as did every Centurion involved. Iknow I should have put a stop to the foolishness, but I did not,since the Praetor had no idea he was being made to look the fool.It was a decision that would later cause me some difficulties.

Primus finished his inspection bymid-afternoon. As I had suspected, he rapidly