I sat there for a moment, not knowing whatto say. Contrary to what might be expected, the overwhelmingemotion I felt was not sadness at being the cause of his distress,although there was that in me; it was a sense of pride at this signof self-sacrifice. That boy, I thought, has the makings of a greatLegionary, but just as I opened my mouth to say this, I thoughtbetter of it, knowing how it always upset Iras when I mentionedsuch things. The fact that I meant it as a compliment was somethingthat I knew she would have a hard time seeing, such was her fearthat her firstborn son would follow the Siren call of the Legions,despite the fact that he would not need to do so in order tosurvive. For one of the few times in my life, I held my owncounsel, and just patted Iras’ and Gaius' arms incommiseration.
"I'm sorry to be the cause of all this," Itold them. "Although," I had to admit, "a part of me wonders howmuch of his fit is about Ocelus and how much is about me."
"It's more about you than he lets on," Irassaid instantly. "Ocelus is just a symbol for what he's feelingabout losing you from his life."
I do not know if she was sincere and tryingto make me feel better, but I can say that it did not help thatmuch. Accordingly, I changed the subject.
"What do you make of your Cohort, PilusPrior?"
Although I could see Gaius took my questionseriously, I also saw the look of pleased surprise in his eyes whenhe heard himself referred to in this manner, which had been my realintent in bringing it up. How well I remembered the deliciousfeeling of being referred to by that new rank, the first on therung that gives the bearer the sense that elevating himself evenhigher is possible. Our system is complicated, but all Pili Prioresare considered Centurions of the first grade, or at least they hadbeen. With Octavian's reorganization, which doubled the size of thefirst Cohort, there had been a corresponding adjustment in thegrading of Centurions. But old habits die hard, and although thepay was slightly less than a Hastatus Posterior in the FirstCohort, for example, a Pilus Prior is still viewed by his peers asbeing a member of the second-highest grade of Centurions behind thePrimus Pilus himself, of which, of course, there is only one.
"They're not bad," he said cautiously, and Ifelt a pang of envy as I watched his eyes narrow in thought,knowing that as he said this, he was running down the list of theCenturions and Optios now under his command.
For that is the given when one Centurionasks another about the state of their Cohort, that it's the leadershe's referring to, because the truth that I, and I knew Gaius hadlearned, was that there are no bad Centuries, only badCenturions.
"I've got a flogger," he told me, and Inodded in sympathy, but I reminded myself that this was no longermy concern.
Gaius was well and truly on his own now, butI had every confidence in him. Although he was several years olderthan I had been when I was made Pilus Prior, the circumstances hadbeen vastly different. Gaius had been allowed to develop his skillsat leadership along a more traditional path and timeline than Ihad, and that seasoning was crucial. Besides, I thought, he hadbeen a survivor of the most brutal campaign in our history and hadexcelled. He was ready, I knew. Oblivious to my own thoughtprocesses, he continued to give a short description of thestrengths and weaknesses of the men under his command. Once he wasfinished, I did not have to pretend to be impressed. I am not lyingwhen I say Gaius had earned his promotion, but I was not about tolet it happen as Camp Prefect without having some idea of what hewas getting involved with in terms of the other Centurions. It hadbeen decades before, it was true, but never far from my mind wasthe memory of my experience with men like Celer and Cornuficius,two men who had done everything they could to undermine me in myposition. Fortunately, after talking at length to Macrinus, I wasassured that there was not a budding Celer nor a Cornuficius in theFourth Cohort. It was during that conversation when I let Macrinusknow that he had my support for the post of Camp Prefect, inexchange for his promotion of Gaius to the Fourth Cohort, somethingthat I have never uttered aloud until just this moment. I will saythat Diocles does not look that surprised; he barely looked up whenI made this confession. Such is our system, and while it may not bethe most honorable, it clearly works, and I never would haveoffered Gaius up unless I carried the conviction down into my bonesthat he was ready.
Our conversation was cut short when Irasasked crossly, "Must you two always discuss business, even whenyou're at the table?"
Before either of us could reply, Diocles,mouth full of bread, mumbled, "Yes."
Both Gaius and I began laughing, and noteven Iras could remain peeved as she joined us, and we laughed longand hard. It is one of my fondest memories of that evening.
Finally, there was really nothing more leftto say between us, so we sat in silence around the table one lasttime. Young Titus managed to stay awake this time, and also behavedhimself, more or less, although it was hard to see the large,perfect tears that rolled down his cheeks. I finally managed tocheer him up by promising that, when he was old enough, I wouldsend for him to come spend a few months with me. This not onlypleased Titus, it seemed to cheer up Gaius; Iras, on the otherhand, sat there silently, trying not to look distressed at thethought of her son braving a journey across our Republic to far-offGaul, which Iras had only heard about and never seen. After Ireflected on it, I realized that neither
