Final Campaign

theless severe form of that battle madness that sometimes descended onme in times of great peril, and I felt the coiling tension in mystomach ease as the old Titus Pullus took command. I had beenheading for the side entrance, the one that I had been ordered touse the last time I came to face Octavian, but on an impulse, Ibrought Ocelus to a halt. I was not going to skulk about as if Ihad done something wrong, I decided then and there, opting as Ialmost always did, for a full, frontal assault. Whatever reluctanceI had felt suddenly seemed to evaporate, and I gave Ocelus a kickin the ribs so that he began moving at a trot, scattering peopleout of his way as we approached the main entrance to what wasalready known as the House of Augustus. I had heard that he was inthe process of buying the house of the orator Hortensius, which wasadjacent to this villa, but I did not know the details aboutwhether he was going to tear Hortensius' villa down to expand his,or combine the two. As it was, I had already heard that one wingwas devoted to the running and management of the army. Reaching themain entrance, I saw two men standing guard, but unlike those UrbanCohorts, these men were attired with full armor, but instead of theLegion red cloak, wore one of blue, matching the plumes in theirhelmets. Despite myself, I felt my lip curl in contempt, a suddenrush of memory flooding my mind. Octavian had renamed them, and Iknew he had purged the ranks of men he suspected of being moreloyal to Antonius than to Rome, but in my heart, to me, these newPraetorian Guards would always be the Brundisium Cohorts, fromwhich they sprang. Nevertheless, as hard as I tried, I could notfind fault with the salutes they rendered when I dismounted and,from a shaded portico, a man wearing the white stripe of the Optiomarched smartly to face me. After exchanging salutes, I identifiedmyself, holding up the scroll, and just as had happened at thegate, I could see that it was instantly recognized.

This time, however, the Optio, afterswallowing hard, said, "Sir, if you wouldn't mind, you need to waithere while I go find out exactly where you're to be sent."

It is odd, I know, but I was comforted byhow uncomfortable he looked at the thought of a Camp Prefectstanding outside a residence, waiting for admittance. Knowing therewas nothing I could do and it would do no good to make the Optiofeel badly, I assured him that I was fine where I was. Before heleft, I did ask him about Ocelus.

"Of course, sir. We'll see that he's stabledin the back and rubbed down. Maybe even a bag of oats?"

Understanding he was doing what he could toease the awkwardness of the situation, I told him I appreciated it.I thought he would simply detail a man to lead Ocelus away, butagain I was in for a surprise. Stepping inside, I saw the Optiobeckon, and another Praetorian emerged, and it was this man who ledOcelus away, after a quiet but stern talking to, of course. Howmany men does it take to guard a door? I wondered. The two men atthe door stood silently, but I did not know if they were forbiddento talk, or if they could not think of anything appropriate to sayto a soon-to-be-disgraced Camp Prefect. That was fine with me; Iwas in no mood for small talk. Finally, what seemed like a sixthpart of a watch but was probably half that, the Optio reappeared,beckoning to me.

"If you would follow me sir, I'll take youwhere you need to go to get started."

Get started? How long was I going to behere? was what occupied my thoughts as I followed the man, and justas had happened the first time, I quickly got lost in the twistsand turns of the hallways. Turning a corner, I saw another two men,in the Praetorium blue but not wearing their helmets,standing outside a doorway. That, I assumed, was where Octavian waslocated, and when I saw the Optio stop in front of the door, myheart started pounding even more fiercely against my ribs. Giving asharp rap, there was a muffled sound, and the Optio partiallyopened the door, poked his head in, then straightened up andbeckoned to me again.

"You can go in immediately," was all he toldme as I passed him, but I do not remember if I thanked him.

I also do not know if his omission of who itwas I was about to see was deliberate, or an attempt to surpriseme, because when I entered, I stood there for a moment,open-mouthed.

"Come in, Pullus," Marcus Vipsanius Agrippasaid evenly, without a hint of warmth in his voice. "We have a lotto talk about."

If this tactic of placing me in front ofAgrippa before I came face to face with Octavian, which I wascounting on, was used to rattle me, it worked perfectly. All thetalking-to I had given myself before this meeting seemed toevaporate in the time it took me to cross the room to stand beforeAgrippa. Although there was a chair there, I was not fooled intositting in it. Instead, I came to intente in front of hisdesk, locking my eyes above him as I rendered a salute, and utteredthe words that I had so many times before.

"Camp Prefect Titus Pullus, reporting asordered, sir."

Although Agrippa returned the salute, he didso silently, then leaned back in his chair to examine me.Naturally, I did not try to meet his gaze, staring instead of animaginary spot above him as he continued to regard me insilence.

Finally, he said, "Sit."

With as much precision as I could, I took aseat in the single chair in front of his desk, but I did not changethe focus of my gaze, only shifting slightly to keep staring at thespot just above his head. As little control or power as I had, Iwas determined that I would exert what I did have by refusing toshow my nervousness by breaking my focus. Finally, I heard Agrippahiss in