"Yes, but we need to decide whether they'regoing to drag the trees here to be dressed, or do it there."
We talked about this for a few moments, andit was decided that we would drag the logs to our camp, where theywould then be cut and shaped by the woodworking immunes,creating the mantlets and platforms for the artillery. This was aless than perfect solution; ideally, we would empty the wagons anduse them to haul the larger logs, but I was unwilling to lose thetime that using the wood from the wagons would gain. Finally, Ilooked over to Libo and Silanus, tapping my chin as I thought aboutwhat duties I could assign them. Silanus was no longer the flabby,soft-looking young noble who had reported with Marcus Primus, andwhile he had not particularly distinguished himself, he had notbeen the epic disaster that I expected. Libo was also solid anddependable, but of the two, I trusted Libo a bit more. However, Iwas not unaware that Silanus' lack of honors could have easily beendue to a lack of opportunity.
"Silanus," I said finally. "I'm giving you avery important task, and it's not without danger. Are you willing?"Although he looked a bit hesitant, he nodded his head. "You'regoing to ride to Siscia to inform General Norbanus of what's takenplace here. But I can't afford to give you more than ten men as anescort. You're going to have to ride hard, but if I were you, Iwould move at night, at least for the first two or three days,until you're out of Moesian territory. Also inform him that we havethe money secure. Do you understand?"
He assured me that he did, but I made himrepeat it, then sent him on his way, his task being the mosturgent.
"Libo, you're going to be my personal aide.Do you know what that means?"
The youngster looked startled at thequestion, but like Silanus, promised I could count on him to dowhatever I needed.
"Good," I said with a grim smile.
When I motioned to him, he came closer, butI pulled him even closer, then draped an arm over his shoulder. Ifelt his body sag under my weight, and he made a great show of notbeing on the verge of collapse.
"Let's start by helping me get something toeat."
A Roman army is a model of efficiency, andwhile I know I am biased, I firmly believe that the men of thisenlistment of the 8th and 13th would have puteven my beloved 10th Equestris to the test by the speedof their work. By the end of the first day, the men designated asminers had already started to dig, while the artillery platformswere up. The Moesians on the walls did their best to stop us, butafter seeing a few of their own skewered by a scorpion bolt, theyresigned themselves to taking the occasional shot with a bow orsling. Logs had been dragged into the camp, arriving perhaps athird of a watch before the sun went down, and I was somewhatsurprised that I did not have to order the immunes tocontinue work by torchlight. As Flavianus had promised, none of thefour shafts were flooded, although the one nearest to the easternbranch of the river did begin dripping water down the sides of thedirt wall. Flavianus was slightly concerned, but the progress wewere making on the other three meant that it was not a majorconcern. However, of all the men who worked that day, I believethat the one who was nearest to exhaustion was poor Libo, as Iforced him to help me hobble around. Using a crutch on one side,and his body as a crutch on the other, it was only with the help ofa couple surreptitiously sipped spoonfuls of poppy syrup that Icould do even that much. Even so, by the end of the day, my bandagewas so soaked that it had to be changed, prompting a warning fromthe camp physician.
"As wounds go, it is about the cleanest Ihave seen," he admitted, but he was not through. "That does notmean that you are anywhere near out of danger. The stitches areholding, but just barely; when I examined them, I could see howtightly they have been pulled. Also, the more you stay on yourfeet, the worse the swelling will be. And that is when corruptioncan happen, when the humors in your body are out of balance."
As much as I wanted to take the finger hewas waving at me and break it off, I knew that not only was hetrying to do what was best for me, he was right. As the dayprogressed, I could feel my leg growing in size, and I suppose thethrobbing increased accordingly as well, but I could not tellbecause of the poppy syrup.
"Fine," I grumbled, then beckoned toFlavianus. "Can you make me a platform where I can be high enoughto see what's going on, but be seated? And," I thought to add,"keep this leg up in the air somehow?"
His eyebrows suddenly began their dashtoward each other, beetling down into an almost perfect "V" as heconsidered my admittedly odd request.
"I suppose I could," the words camereluctantly, and I could not blame him.
He had far more important things to do thanaccommodate my personal needs.
"Wouldn't it just be easier if you stayed inbed to recuperate? You were seriously wounded, Prefect." Libo'svoice carried more than a hint of pleading, and I had to suppress asmile, knowing that he was just worn out.
"It might be." I pretended to consider it,drawing it out just long enough to see a faint look of hope on hisface before shaking my head. "But no, I need to see how the work'sprogressing."
Libo tried to hide his disappointment, whileFlavianus went off, muttering under his breath about gods only knewwhat.
Diocles appeared from my private quarters,where I knew he had been listening, his face showing his concern ashe looked down at my leg. I must admit
