Final Campaign

reality, done nothing worthy of being attacked the first time,when Marcus Crassus had sought to make a name for himself. Myreasoning, such as it was, went something like this: At that momentin time, I was sure that I was doomed, so it was not that hard adecision to actually do what I was being charged with in waging anunauthorized war on a peaceful people. At least, this way, it wouldsolve the problem of having an angry army at my back the rest ofthe way back to Siscia. I knew with every mile that drew us closerto home, the men's anger would grow, as they realized that theirchances of enriching themselves decreased with every homeward step.This was a decision prompted by desperation, although I did hold afaint hope that the sight of our approaching army would enragepeople with memories of the last time a Roman army descended ontheir city. If they let their passions overrule their sense, theywould give me the pretext that would excuse an act that I was goingto perpetrate no matter whether they did anything provocative ornot. It was a very, very thin hope, but it was all I had at thatpoint. When I was finished, neither man spoke for a moment, thenfinally Macrinus broke the silence.

"Well, that will certainly appease the men.If," he added, "Naissus has managed to recover from the last timewe were there."

I realized I had quite forgotten that the8^th had been one of the Legions leading the assault, butI was struck by a sudden memory of a tall, lean Optio, leading hismen onto the rampart from the siege tower that they had pushed upagainst the wall. Remembering the stark, helpless fear of watchingmy nephew in his first major action as a junior officer was amemory that still made me break out into a cold sweat. Gaius haddone well, but I had almost met my end, thanks to my fight withPrixus and, in reflex, I looked down at the leather harness that Istill wore over the remnant of my little finger. In that moment, Iwas assailed by a number of feelings, but I am ashamed to say thatguilt at what I was about to unleash on the people of Naissus wasnot one of them. All I saw was a means to an end, a way out of apredicament that was not of my making but one for which I wasultimately responsible. It never occurred to me that I would behanded the perfect excuse by the people of Naissus themselves, butthat was exactly what happened.

Moving an army of any decent size isimpossible to do with any amount of stealth, unless you are movinga short distance, under the cover of darkness perhaps, such asgetting into position for an attack. But an army on a normal march,even when it is just two Legions, is easy to spot coming from agood distance away. So it should have been no surprise that theMoesians of Naissus, seeing the cloud of dust hovering above us onthe horizon as we drew nearer to the city, had the time to send outmounted scouts. Our vanguard reported a party of a dozen men thatthey spotted on a hill, which our line of march would skirt, but bythe time I cantered Ocelus up to the front, they had disappeared.The Centurion in command of the advance Century gave me his report,yet I still did not think much of it.

"Just keep your eyes out. I doubt they'regoing to do more than shake their fists at us," I told theCenturion before returning to my spot in the command group.

I tried to remember the layout of Naissus,along with the details of our assault. We had not affected a breachof the city walls; we had used towers and a ram to force open thegate, which Crassus, his bodyguards, and the Evocati, of whomCrassus had appointed me the de facto leader, had gallopedthrough to slam into the defenders, cutting them down as theLegionaries followed us. Unlike a stone wall, which is inevitablyweakened by a breach, even after it is patched, a gate can actuallybe strengthened after the original is battered down, and I wasgoing to operate on the assumption that this was the case withNaissus, particularly after the experience from the time before. Myone concern was the time it would take to build at least one tower;two is always preferred, but with the limited manpower available tome, that would take more time than I was willing to spend. This hadto be a quick assault; over a three-week march, I could easilyfinesse at least one and perhaps two extra days, if I invented acause for delay like a handful of the wagons carrying the moneybreaking wheels, or even a sickness sweeping through the camp asthe result of stopping at a spot where the water was bad. Anylonger of a delay than that would be difficult, if not impossibleto explain to Norbanus, still the commanding general at Siscia. Formost of the march, we had followed beside the Sava, but when wewere perhaps ten miles from Naissus, at the confluence of the Savaand another river, we had to find a ford to get across the Sava.Although the Sava turned northwards and led to Naissus, the otherriver was a rushing torrent, and we had been following along theleft bank of the river, meaning that we had to cross the Savaregardless. Right at the junction of the two, on the opposite bankthere was a hill that rose up very close by to our ford. It washeavily wooded, and fording a river is the moment when an army isperhaps at its most vulnerable. If the Moesians that had beenhiding among the thick undergrowth on the slope had been moreexperienced, or more patient, they could have inflicted a greatdeal of damage. Luckily for us, and for me personally, they did notwait for the vanguard to pass by to fall on the main body. Justmoments after the Century of the vanguard emerged from the ford,still dripping water from their tunics, the water being waist deep,a force of perhaps three