“Maybe not, but it makes me feelbetter.”
Rather than sit there, I decided to headback to the baggage train, where Scipio was riding next to the leadwagon.
“Why are we stopped?” he asked when Itrotted up.
Explaining why, I was careful to keep mytone as neutral as I could, but he still made a face. I consideredhaving Scipio continue with the baggage, but decided against it,knowing that it would just cause a huge snarl when the vanguardinevitably caught up with them. Instead, I sat with Scipio forseveral moments, chatting quietly, until I deemed that enough timeshould have passed for Primus to recuperate. Heading Ocelus back upthe column, I found the Praetor still leaning against the tree,with his helmet off, but seemingly only partially recovered, sweatstill streaming down his face.
“Praetor, we need to get back on the march.”I looked down at the fat little man, trying not to let my disgustshow.
Masala had joined him, and it was he whogave me a reproachful look, the Praetor only moaning in response,shaking his head. Seeing that I was not going away, he finallyspoke. “No, I need more time to rest,” he insisted.
Seeing that arguing with the man waspointless, I motioned to Masala, who reluctantly got to his feet tofollow me a short distance away.
“You need to get the Praetor off his fat assand into the saddle,” I said once we were out of earshot.
He stiffened at my words, then opened hismouth to reply, but I held out a hand.
“Because if you don’t, the army is going tolose what little respect for the man they have. Right now, it’s histitle that’s saving him, but if he continues to act like ahigh-born Roman woman, instead of a Roman man, I won't be able tokeep the men from seeing him for what we both know he is. And fordifferent reasons, neither of us wants that.”
Masala stared up at me for several moments,and I could see that while he did not like the message, heunderstood it. Finally, he gave an abrupt nod.
“I'll handle the Praetor.”
“Good. Now, when can I sound the call toreassemble and resume the march?”
Masala looked over at Primus and said, “Assoon as you see him get to his feet. Then you can have thebucinator give the signal. He’ll be ready by the time themen start off again.”
Masala was good to his word; I saw himsaying something to Primus, who struggled to his feet. I turned tothe bucinator and had him sound the call. In a matter ofmoments, the march resumed.
Although matters improved, it was onlymarginally. The second day, we managed just short of fifteen miles,prompting me to call a meeting with the Tribunes and Masala, who Ihad decided to use as an intermediary with Primus wheneverpossible. The moment the Praetor’s aide entered my tent, he sawthat he was not among friendly faces. Even Silanus was stone-faced,and I knew that normally they were good friends and sharingquarters, at least when Masala was not spending the night inPrimus’ quarters, which as far as I could tell, neither man madeany attempt to hide. This was another matter that worried me, but Iwas not going to bring it up in front of the others. In fact, I hadnot decided whether I would bring it up at all. Much depended onthis conversation, if that was what it could be called.
“Masala, I asked you to attend this meetingas someone who has some influence over the Praetor,” I began.
“I wouldn’t say that.” His reply wascautious, which was understandable.
“I would,” I countered. “You got him back inthe saddle after the first rest break yesterday when he clearlydidn't want to. Thank you for that, by the way.”
Masala inclined his head in acknowledgment,then peered about at the faces watching him.
“Prefect, why don’t we dispense with all theniceties,” he said abruptly, looking back to me. “What do youwant?”
“I want you to make sure that we don’t havea repeat of the last two days,” I replied instantly. “Because it’sbad for the men’s morale to see their Legate rolling about on theground gasping like a Suburan whore who’s just serviced aCentury.”
Masala’s face reddened, and I caught acautioning glare from Scribonius. My friend had specifically warnedme against that kind of harsh talk before the meeting, but myfrustration had gotten the better of me.
“I don’t think that the Praetor wouldappreciate being compared to a whore,” Masala shot back, hisposture taut with suppressed anger.
I held up a hand in a placating gesture.
“I apologize, Masala. As usual, my tonguegot the better of my self-control. It’s just that if we continue atthis rate, it will take us more than a month to get to Serdica,which will put us well into July. Depending on what we find there,we may end up stuck there for the winter, and none of us wantthat.”
Masala visibly relaxed, heaving a deepsigh.
“I know.” He breathed the words like he didnot want to be overheard. “But you must understand that MarcusPrimus hasn't spent any time with an army or on the march.”
Then what was Octavian thinking in puttinghim in command, I wondered?
Of course, I did not voice this question,saying instead, “Be that as it may, it does the men no goodwhatsoever to have that fact demonstrated in such a dramaticfashion.”
“I'm not arguing with you, Prefect,” Masalasaid with some asperity. “I'm just trying to explain thecircumstances.”
Before I could respond, Silanus spokeup.
“Nobody is disputing that you’re in adifficult spot, Gnaeus. But surely you can see the problem, and Itold the Prefect that we could count on you to help the Praetorto…toughen up a bit.”
Silanus and I had never had any suchconversation, yet I understood and appreciated what he was tryingto do in relying on his personal relationship with Masala.
“I understand,” Masala said, more at easenow that he was not feeling like he was being attacked and hesmiled at Silanus. “I'll do everything in my power to prevail uponMarcus Primus to set an example that the men of the army can beproud of.”
“One suggestion.” Scribonius spoke up
