Final Campaign

grew tired of thetedium that is an inspection of troops. I did prevail upon him toinspect the cavalry, under the command of Libo, where he causedanother commotion when his stallion caught the scent of a mare inestrus in the formation, the beast tossing his head and jerking atthe reins. This kind of thing happens all the time, and normallyit’s just a matter of curbing the reins of the stallion, somethingI had to do all the time with Ocelus, despite not being a greathorseman. Primus could barely control his mount, however, whichbegan bucking and plunging, trying to wrest the reins from thePraetor’s hands. It was not until I reached over to grab the bridlethat the problem was solved. Primus had forgotten to tie thechinstraps of his helmet, probably because it barely fit on his fathead to begin with and, in the resulting commotion, it did not takemuch to send it flying into the air. It glinted in the sun,tumbling over and over, the plume whirling crazily, amid an audiblegasp from the watching men. Inwardly cursing, I snapped an orderfor the nearest man to dismount and retrieve the helmet, knowingthat the men would be talking about this tonight around the fire. Ihad little illusion that they would consider this anything but anevil omen, and would speculate on its meaning, whether or not itspelled doom for just Marcus Primus, or the army. Earlier, I hadbriefed Macrinus, Flaminius, and the Tribunes on where we wereheaded, yet had not given them any specifics, since I had notreceived any yet. What I did not tell them was that Primus hadexpected the men to be ready to march the day after we arrived,mostly because I did not need that kind of trouble so early on.Knowing from experience that by telling the Primi Pili and Tribunesthat the rankers would know our objective by nightfall and I couldjust imagine how their overactive imaginations would interpret thissign of the gods’ disfavor of Marcus Primus. This campaign had noteven started, yet it was already causing me innumerable headaches.Nevertheless, if I thought that at least Primus had satisfied hismartial ardor by parading around in front of the men, he was aboutto prove me wrong. We had just finished inspecting Capito’sauxiliaries who, being composed of mostly native levies, are heldto a slightly different standard than Legionaries. This is not tosay that the discipline is more lax; it is just different. I foundmyself tutoring Primus yet again on what he needed to do and whatto look for, but overall I was pleased with the condition andappearance of the auxiliary force, so much so that I congratulatedTribune Capito on a fine showing.

The inspection finished, I was beginning torelax as we mounted our horses, when Primus turned to me. “I wantto watch them fight a mock battle.”

I froze in the saddle, my mind racing,trying to understand what Primus was saying.

“When?” I asked him.

He frowned as if the answer was obvious.

“Now, of course,” he said impatiently,waving his hand at the open ground outside the city walls where thearmy was gathered. “Just have one Legion against the other, nothingelaborate. I want to watch how well they fight.”

Even if I had been so inclined, I could nothave hidden my astonishment, my mouth dropping open the way it did.Marcus Primus clearly had no idea what it took to hold this kind ofexercise, and I felt a surge of anger.

“Praetor, what you're requesting isn't asimple exercise. I’m afraid it’s impossible to comply on such shortnotice.”

Primus stiffened, giving me what I am surehe thought was a cold stare.

“Prefect, I did not make a request; I gavean order. I want to see the men fight. Now.”

“Very well, Praetor. Did you want them touse their normal weapons as well so that you can see some blood inthe sand?”

I made no attempt to keep the acid fromdripping with every word, and I was pleased to see him redden.

“Of course not,” he snapped. “Don’t beridiculous. Have them use their training weapons.”

“You do realize that we don't have thetraining weapons with us, Praetor?”

Now it was his turn to look astonished.

“Why not?”

“Because Legions going on campaign don’tcarry the extra baggage that the training weapons would require.” Itried to be patient with the man, but it was difficult, since hewas again acting like a petulant child.

“Then how can they expect to stay sharp andbe ready to fight if they don’t train?”

“Usually, on a campaign, whatever enemywe’re facing gives us all the practice we need,” I respondeddryly.

We sat there glaring at each other forseveral moments, neither of us speaking.

Finally, Marcus Primus said, “Well, Prefect,I must say I am very disappointed. This is the second time I'vebeen disappointed. First, you tell me that the army isn't ready tomarch immediately, then you tell me that it’s not prepared to carryout a simple exercise. I'm beginning to wonder if your reputationis as deserved as I heard.”

Men have died for less than the insultMarcus Primus had just uttered. Clutching the reins in my handtightly, I fought an almost overwhelming urge to draw my blade.Ocelus, obviously sensing my tension, began shifting nervously,kicking up dust with his hooves as he hopped about. I swallowedhard before I spoke, struggling hard to keep my voice even.

“Praetor, I am at your disposal. If you wantto relieve me and replace me with a man more qualified, that is, ofcourse, your prerogative, but I promise you that list is very, veryshort indeed.”

Primus must have sensed that he had gone toofar, because he immediately put up a fat hand in a placatinggesture.

“Pax, Prefect. I meant no disrespect.I'm just very disappointed. I was so looking forward to seeing themen perform.”

Knowing that this was as much of an apologyas I was going to get, I did not force the issue, but I waslearning that Marcus Primus was going to be a handful.

“I assure you, Praetor, that when we get thechance to face the enemy, you'll get all the show you coulddesire.”

Primus’ fat face creased in a smile ofpleasure at the thought, and I imagine that he looked the same waybefore he was about to