Final Campaign

observe,they would undoubtedly find our giddiness and joy at the simpleaddition of a domestic to a bookseller's household to be quiteunnecessary and over exuberant. Most interestingly was yet anotherletter carried on a ship that clearly had not been far behind thefirst one. This one, however, was from someone I knew, if onlyslightly. Scribonius' brother was quite irate, and demanded that ifI knew anything about the whereabouts of his brother and hisfaithless wife, that I would do the honorable thing and let himknow their location immediately. As far as I know, he is stillwaiting for my reply. Hopefully, he has moved on.

In much the same manner as the time betweenthe campaign of Marcus Crassus and my last one with Primus, notonly did the next two years pass with amazing rapidity, it was alsoblessedly uneventful. Aside from a couple of local rebellions thatonly required one Legion to stamp out, the last two years of mytime under the standard was spent in the routine world of camplife. More than once, I caught myself thinking that, truth beknown, if this had been even a few years before, this would havebeen a huge source of irritation for me that I would haveinevitably taken out on those around me. That, fortunately foreveryone, was no longer the case. I do not know exactly when ithappened, but there came a moment when I recognized that not onlyhad I marched to my last battle, I was happy that this was so. Thefire; that blaze that had fueled me for so long, pushing me up theranks and seen me fight my enemies with what I believe is thesingle-minded ferocity one needs to prevail, had finally gone out.I suppose that it was due at least in part to the fact that I hadnowhere else upward to go; I had attained the highest rankavailable to a man from the ranks. Consequently, I was perfectlycontent with the routine duties that come with a Roman Legion thatis not actively fighting, but is waiting, in readiness, for Rome tocall. The only thing that did not change was my daily exercises,both with the sword, and on Ocelus, but I think both of thoseactivities had become such ingrained habits that it would have feltstranger to stop than it felt foolish to continue. In fact, I nolonger minded that the younger men of the Legions viewed me assomething of an oddity, stopping to watch when I took my turn atthe stakes, still stripped to the waist and working up a sweat. Ino longer had the body that I had been so proud about for so manyyears, but in comparison to other men my age, I imagine that Icompared well with them. The best part of this period was the timeI got to spend with Titus, who was growing so quickly that at timesI swore that it happened overnight. It had become obvious at thispoint that Titus was going to be a very large man; already he was ahead taller than the other boys his age, and much stronger. On morethan one occasion, I found myself in the unusual position oftalking to what could easily have been me at that age, admonishingTitus that just because he was bigger and stronger than otherchildren, it did not mean that he was special, or deserved to bejudged by a different set of rules. Most importantly, I tried toimpress upon him the responsibility that comes from being born withcertain gifts. Only time will tell if he was listening. He andOcelus still enjoyed each other's company immensely, and I mustadmit that I was somewhat sad when Titus finally outgrew hismispronunciation of my horse's name. Regardless, the boy made sureto bring Ocelus his apple, every day, and as the time grew closerfor my final retirement, I began dreading the thought that theywould finally be parted. The only thing I was sure about was thatwhen I retired, I would not be staying in Siscia, as much as itpained me to make this decision. It was not entirely voluntary;Octavian tended to frown on high-ranking officers retiring in thevicinity of Legions, in the event that the officers tired ofretirement and started having dreams of their own. However, whilePannonia was turning into a full Roman province, it was still wild,and there were bursts of violence that saw Roman settlers forced tofight locals who got it in their minds to throw the Romans off theland they were working. Because of my association with the10^th, the area around Placentia was an option for me tochoose, since that is where the veterans of the 10^th'sfirst enlistment were settled. But between being a Camp Prefect,and my time with the 6^th Legion, I had been informedthat I could choose from any area where there was a veteran'scolony. This is how I chose Arelate, remembering it from my time inGaul. The country is beautiful, and being located on the RhodanusRiver, which is navigable by large craft quite a distance inland,it was accessible for all the types of goods that made life morecomfortable. I sent inquiries to agents in the town that handlesuch matters, and received a list of possibilities.

About six months before I retired, Dioclesand Agis were sent on a mission to scout out the properties, and Ientrusted Diocles with making the decision if he found one worthy.My one condition was that it not belong to someone who had beenproscribed years before, or confiscated in some other way. This hadnothing to do with any sense of fairness and everything to do withthe idea of having to watch my back from a family member of theformer owners who bore a grudge about their eviction. I had heardfar too many stories from other veterans who had found themselveswith a sword in their hands again, fending off the attacks fromenraged civilians who were sure they had been wronged, but who wereunable or unwilling to strike out at the person actuallyresponsible the loss of their property. Another condition was thatit was not attached to anything remotely resembling a farm; Isuppose my childhood still cast a long shadow, but