"What?" I asked; despite the gravity of thesituation, I could not resist having a bit of fun.
"You know what," Macrinus snapped,completely forgetting the fact that I outranked him.
"Oh, that."
"Yes, that." Macrinus finally smiled,realizing that I was tormenting him.
I proceeded to explain what I had been toldby Masala, leaving nothing out. When I was finished, the other twomen sat there in silence, digesting this.
"What about the men?" Flaminius asked me."How are they going to get paid any kind of bonus?"
"I've been thinking about that, but rightnow, I don't know," I admitted. "I need to talk to this Volusenusto get an idea of what's going to happen."
"No matter what, Primus is a cooked goose,"Macrinus commented, and if there was any regret in his voice, I didnot hear it.
"That he is," I agreed. "But more importantis what happens to the army."
"I suppose we're heading back to Siscia,"Macrinus offered.
"Most likely," I agreed. "Although I don'tthink it will be with Marcus Primus leading us."
"That means that you'll be in command?"Flaminius asked, and while on the surface it was a perfectlyreasonable and innocent question, something in the way he spokearrested my attention.
I stared hard at him as I responded, "Iimagine so. Why?"
The two of them exchanged a glance, tellingme that they had discussed something outside of my presence, butsuddenly neither of them seemed eager to be the one to bringwhatever it was to my attention.
"What is it? Spit it out," I demanded, asweary of living in a time where every word had to be guarded asanything else.
"If you're in command," Macrinus took upFlaminius' thought, "that means that Marcus Primus is going to bedetached from the army. And he's the only reason we have theconcerns that we do about appeasing the men. If you were to decideto continue the campaign for the month that Primus agreed to,wouldn't you just be following the last order you were given by thelawfully appointed Praetor?"
"He's not Praetor anymore," I pointedout.
"But he was when he issued the order,"Flaminius broke in, confirming my suspicion that this was somethingthe pair had discussed. "Which still makes it valid, doesn'tit?"
I considered for a moment. In fact, it wasnot a bad idea. By continuing the campaign, I would not be doinganything illegal, because both Macrinus and Flaminius wereabsolutely correct; the last order I had been given by MarcusPrimus when he was still Praetor with Proconsular imperium was thatwe would march for another month. Going further, as I thought aboutit, I realized that he had not put these orders in writing, so thatI could easily claim that he had authorized a longer period than amonth; six weeks, perhaps. Or even two months, although that wouldput us dangerously close to the end of the season, at least withenough cushion to march all the way back to Siscia. Working in ourfavor in the event that I chose to extend the campaign past themonth previously set was that we could march in a direct line backto Siscia.
Finally, I said slowly, "That's not theworst idea I've ever heard."
"Your confidence in us is overwhelming,"Macrinus said dryly. "I'm so glad you approve."
I had to laugh at that, but my mind wasracing with the possibilities. Standing up, I strapped on my beltand harness; unlike Centurions, at this point, the Camp Prefect didnot have any badge of his rank that he could carry wearing just histunic. It was annoying, and it was on the list of suggestions Iplanned on making at some point. Unfortunately, my helmet was theonly distinctive mark of my office, but I assure you that a manclad in just his tunic and wearing a helmet is one of the moreridiculous sights one will see in their lives. Having said that, aman in a tunic with his sword and complete harness without hisarmor, while not as ridiculous a sight as the helmet, is onlybetter by a degree. Nonetheless, I had decided that I needed towaste no time in putting this idea in motion.
"Wait here," I told the two. "I'm going tothe Praetorium to get this started. It shouldn't take toolong."
I was right that it did not take much time,but I was wrong in my assessment that the idea the two Primi Pilipresented to me would be easily implemented. In fact, it was notimplemented at all. The reason, as I learned very quickly, wasthat, as usual, Octavian had thought of everything. When I enteredthe Praetorium, I will say that I have never felt anatmosphere quite like the one I experienced then, even in the darkdays of Parthia, when the entire army was on the verge of panic.This time, it was not panic that lingered in the air like a badodor, and thinking back on it, I suppose it makes sense that it wasa feeling I had never experienced before, because nothing like thishad ever happened, to any of the men assembled in that tent. TheTribunes were standing in a small knot, huddled together andtalking in hushed tones, while clerks were scurrying even morequickly than they normally did. Once my eyes adjusted, I saw thatat the epicenter of all this motion were the two men who hadstarted the turmoil with the delivery of the directive fromOctavian. Now that they were standing, I had a chance to betterassess the pair. Volusenus was the taller of the pair, although hewas of medium height and a stocky build that made him appear a bitshorter than he was. Without his helmet, I saw that he had fairhair, and as I drew closer, I saw that he was much younger than Iwould have assumed, especially given the gravity of his task. Hishair was longer than the norm for those days, worn down over the inthe style that Octavian wore to hide the one thing that was veryunlike Caesar, and that was a pair of protruding ears that stuckout almost at the
