After five days, when we reached FanumFortunae, that was when a new piece of news arrived with a relaycourier who had caught up with us and paused for a brief rest atthe same inn where we were staying. This concerned Fannius Caepio,and Primus' defender Murena. Apparently, they had fled Rome, beingdeclared nefas and were now fugitives, with a price on theirheads, for plotting to overthrow the seated Consul of Rome. Thatwas the official version, at least; when we heard, Diocles and Iexchanged a glance, and I know his mind was running along the samelines, recalling the conversation we had with Scribonius about thereal motivation and target of Caepio, Murena, and whoever wasworking with them. Despite the stir this news caused, and theeagerness of people to approach a man like me, dressed in theattire of a Legionary officer, I refused to be drawn into anyconversations, to the point where I became surly at times. At onepoint, as a merchant who was returning wherever he was headed,after being in Rome selling pots, or some such, was particularlypersistent in his attempts to gather from me a nugget ofinformation that he could then claim as his own, I was struck by athought. If he understood how much I really know, I thought grimly,the only way I could get him to shut up would be to run himthrough. Somehow, I managed to avoid doing that, but needless tosay, Diocles and I were always the first to retire for the evening,and the first to leave, usually before dawn the next day, andwhenever possible, I paid for a room to ourselves. All I couldthink about at this point was to return to Siscia, and fulfill theterms of what had been dictated on that scroll, so I am afraid thatOcelus, Diocles, and Thunder were pushed to their limits. Frankly,so was I; between the pace and the weather, I felt every one of myalmost fifty-eight years. When we reached Aquileia, roughly halfwayback, at least as far in terms of the miles covered, we stayed anextra day to rest, but then pushed on. We had left on the Ides ofNovember; a week past the Kalends of December, we approachedSiscia, but the closer we got, the slower I rode. It was not that Idid not look forward to returning a free man, and to seeing Gaius,and especially young Titus. As I look back on that time some fouryears ago now, I suppose I somehow knew in the back of my mindthat, for all intents and purposes, my career was at an end. Whathad started forty years before was now behind me, and I felt in mysoldier's bones that I had surmounted the last obstacle I wouldface, that would be a challenge at least. My companion was no lesscontemplative, so it made for some quiet riding the last day intoSiscia.
Unlike our last arrival, there was nofanfare; I think we were hardly noticed, as the townspeople and themen of the Legions stationed there went about their daily business.Passing through the town, much, yet nothing had really changed inthe previous almost three months we had been gone. Perhaps it wasjust the realization that something momentous had occurred, atleast in my career, and my life, that I saw the town differently.Whereas before I had seen a raw town, still bearing the marks ofbeing on the frontier here in Pannonia, and one with a militarypresence at that, now I saw how the people were attempting to makethis their home. Even with the restriction against Legionarieshaving families, the reality was that a large proportion of thepeople of Siscia had ties, direct or indirect, to the Legions. Itwas the Legions that gave the town its meaning and purpose,bringing prosperity and order to a part of the world that, from allthat I had seen and experienced, badly needed it. On only a coupleof occasions did Diocles and I see someone we knew; one was thewoman of a Centurion of the 8th that I knew was friendswith Iras, who stood open-mouthed as we rode by, barely rememberingto answer my wave and smile with one of her own. The other was atthe outskirts of town as we headed to the camp, when a man Irecognized from being in the 8th was hurrying along,carrying some loaves of panera in a his net bag that we use forforage. Seeing us, he stopped as he tried to determine whether thetwo riders spelled trouble for him or not, then when he realizedthat it was not only someone connected with the army, but was infact the Camp Prefect, it took quite a bit of willpower on my partnot to laugh at the sight of him as he tried to decide what to do.I could tell that a large part of his mind was screaming at him toflee away from the road, off into a line of bushes, while anotherpart of him was telling him to brazen it out. Fortunately, he chosethe latter course, coming to intente as we rode up. He wasforced to shift the bread to his other hand to render a salute, butI returned it as I looked down at him.
"Salve Gregarius," I saidgenially.
"Salve, Prefect," he answered, tryingto keep his eyes fixed above me, which made him look somewhatridiculous since I was on Ocelus, so his eyes were almost rolledback in his head. "It's good to see you back, sir."
"It's good to be back," I responded, and inthis, at least, I was being honest. Pointing down to his net bag, Icontinued, "I see you brought your empty net to gather forage."
The Gregarius looked down at the net, whichwas clearly not empty, then back up, this time looking at me,confusion plainly written on his face.
"Sir? I'm afraid I don't understand. My netis..."
"Is empty," I cut him off, sharpening mytone a bit. "Because if it wasn't, of course, then that would be aproblem, wouldn't it? If, for example, it was full of panera loavesthat a Gregarius was sneaking out of camp
