His grip was moist but firm, my initialimpression of him being that he would be lost in the shuffle ofTribunes once Scipio, Libo, and Capito were added to the mix.Finally, the third man stepped forward, his nose tilted upward ashe tried to look down it at me, yet, like Primus, he was muchshorter than I was. He was dressed almost as expensively as Primus,exuding the same aura of superiority based on class as Primus.Diffidently offering his hand, he made it clear that this was anordeal for him. I noticed he wore as many rings as Primus and, bythe way he offered his hand, I wondered if he expected me to kissit in the fashion of the eastern potentates. Instead, I grabbed hisforearm, pleased to see him wince when I applied pressure, even ifit seemed to be equal parts pain and disgust.
“And this is my personal aide, GnaeusVitellius Masala.” There was little mistaking the pride andaffection in the fat Praetor’s voice.
“It is a pleasure, Prefect,” Masala intoned,making it clear that it was anything but, as far as he wasconcerned.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Primusstaring at Masala with the kind of fixation that a man has for alover, making me suspect that was exactly what I was watching.
“Now that the introductions are out of theway, let’s get on with this business,” Primus said. Turning toMasala, he joked, “Our Prefect was nervous about going into Thracewithout everything planned down to the last detail, and wecertainly don’t want a nervous Prefect, do we, Masala?”
“No, we must do everything to make thePrefect as comfortable as possible about this great adventure,”Masala agreed, smiling at me while making no attempt to hide thefact he was mocking me.
“Actually, I agree with the Prefect,”Lucullus broke in, surprising me considerably, clearly irritatingPrimus, who turned to scowl at his senior Tribune.
“You would,” Masala muttered just loudlyenough for only me to hear.
There was an undercurrent going on inPrimus’ Praetorium that I needed to understand as thiscampaign progressed, and the sooner the better. Unrolling the mapthat Primus had originally shown me just a couple of days before, Isaw that this time it was marked with a number of symbols.
“Since you think it’s such a good idea, youcan show the Prefect.” Primus yawned. “I have other matters toattend to.” Without waiting for an answer, the Praetor turned towaddle out of the room. Before he left, he turned to Masala, givinghis aide what looked to me very much like a leer, then asked,“Masala, are you coming?”
“Of course,” Masala said, languidly risingfrom the couch that he had fallen back into after ourintroduction.
With a nod to the rest of us, he followedPrimus out of the room. I watched Lucullus out of the corner of myeye while I pretended to study the map, seeing his lip curl up in alook of disgust, but he said nothing. The moment they were gone, hepointed to the line tracing out from Philippi.
“This will be our line of march,” hebegan.
Then, for the better part of the morning, wediscussed the plan for the campaign.
As plans went, it was fairly sound, and Icame away impressed with Lucullus and his ability. It became clearvery quickly that Silanus had contributed next to nothing to theplan, but I was a bit surprised when Lucullus admitted, if a bitgrudgingly, that Masala had been a major contributor as well.
“We plan on heading north, but on theMacedonian side of the border and about three days’ march awaybefore we turn east. That way, we hope to catch the Thracians bysurprise, since it’s unlikely that they'll have scouts out thatdeep into Macedonia.”
“Although that would actually be a goodthing if they were,” I mused, looking at the map.
Silanus looked confused, but Lucullusinstantly understood.
“True,” he agreed. “That would give us theperfect excuse to cross into Thrace. Perhaps we should rethinkthings and march closer to the border. There’s sufficient trafficback and forth across the border that it wouldn’t take long forword to reach the Thracians.”
I considered for a moment, wishing that Ihad brought Scribonius. Finally, I shook my head.
“Too many things could go wrong,” I said.“We’re only going after the Triballi, who are up north. If we'respotted earlier and rouse the other tribes, we’re going to havetrouble we don’t need. No, I think we should stick to the originalplan.”
Continuing, Lucullus pointed to the areabetween the two chains of low mountains that is the only passageinto northern Thrace, retracing essentially the same route that wehad taken under Crassus five years before when we marched toThessalonica. I was familiar with the country, and knew that therewere large tracts of forest that would provide ample opportunitiesfor ambush.
“Once we get to this area,” I said, pointingto the map, “we'll be marching with armor and helmets on, anduncovered shields.”
Lucullus looked doubtful.
“Are you sure it will be necessary?” heasked. “I know the men hate to march that way.”
“I’m sure,” I said shortly.
I had no intention of explaining why I wasso adamant, but Lucullus was wise enough not to continue arguing.We discussed a few more details before I felt comfortable with theplan to that point. Finally, I asked what had been gnawing at mefrom the moment Marcus Primus and I had first met.
“What exactly is our objective? Other than‘exacting vengeance on the Triballi,’ I mean?”
Lucullus gave a short laugh. “Yes, that is abit vague, isn’t it?”
Leaning farther over the map, he stabbed afinger down at a spot just south of Thrace’s northern border withMoesia. I saw writing next to a large dot, but I had to squint tomake it out.
“Serdica,” I read. I looked over atLucullus, my surprise no doubt showing. “We’re going to takeSerdica.”
The moment I learned that besieging andtaking Serdica was our ultimate objective, matters changed, thingsinstantly becoming more difficult. Taking a town or city the sizethat Serdica was supposed to be with just two Legions was going tobe a difficult proposition, especially since we did not havesufficient artillery or engineering tools to conduct a propersiege. We would need heavier artillery, and
