“In other words, if I make this agreement, Iremove one tribe from the list of those who are marching againstus. But if I kill him, I will remove more than one. So I think it’sclear what the right decision is.”
He sat back, looking at me with a triumphantgrin, clearly expecting some sort of reaction from me. Primus didget a reaction, except I am fairly sure it was not the one hewanted.
“You mentioned that if you killed him, thesethings would happen,” I said with a straight face. “Does that meanthat you’ll march across this field and plunge your sword into hisguts yourself, Praetor?”
Because he was safely behind Primus, I sawthe glimmer of a grin cross Masala’s face, but his patron had adecidedly different reaction.
“Don’t be absurd,” the Praetor snapped. “Iwas speaking figuratively. I will leave it to you the best way todispatch the man, and the rest of those…” He fumbled for the rightword, finally just giving a dismissive wave of his ringed hand,giving the order to kill several dozen men no more thought than ifhe was deciding whether to sit or stand.
“What about the three talents?” Masalasuddenly put in. Primus turned to look at his aide in somesurprise.
“I had forgotten you were there,” heexclaimed. “Yes, the money. That is a good point…” he seemed tothink about it, but I do not believe he was seriously consideringit, and that his mind was made up. After a moment, he gave anotherlittle wave.
“While it would certainly be nice to havethat money, and it’s something to consider, we will undoubtedlytake much more than that when we plunder Serdica. So my decisionstands.”
I did not know how he could be so sure thatwould be the case; I had taken more than my share of towns that hadsupposedly been stuffed full of all types of plunder, only to findit containing barely a copper bracelet and a brass obol. And whileI could see Primus’ reasoning about killing Cleitos, I thought hewas making a huge leap of logic to think that the Thracians wouldfall onto the Medi like a pack of wolves. However, Primus was notgoing to be moved on this matter, and he glared at me as I stoodthere, not moving.
“I believe you have your orders, Prefect. Iexpect them to be carried out.”
The salute I gave was grudgingly given, yetit was rendered nonetheless, then I spun about, trying to thinkwhat to do. Before I had taken a few steps, as if reading mythoughts, Primus called out, but to Masala.
“Masala, I want you to accompany the Prefectto make sure that everything goes as I expect it to.”
I gave an angry look over my shoulder at thePraetor, who was regarding me with a smug smile. Masala, his face amask giving nothing away, hurried to catch up with me, since I hadhopped back on Ocelus and immediately put him into a trot. Masalapulled alongside me on his horse, a quick-stepping chestnut muchsmaller than Ocelus, meaning between that and my height, I toweredover Primus’ protégé. From my vantage point, I looked down on hisface, and while he was still expressionless, I had the distinctfeeling that something was on the tip of his tongue. I was in nomood to talk, girding myself to either carry out the order, or tofigure out a way to avoid doing so. We had gone a short distancewhen Masala suddenly jerked on the reins of his horse, slowing himto a walk.
“We can’t do this,” he said flatly. “Andwe’re not going to.”
“I’m listening,” was my only response,slowing down to match Masala’s pace.
“You know as well as I do that we shouldaccept this agreement,” Masala said, keeping his eyes straightahead, and I realized he knew that Primus was still watching us, soI did the same.
“Be that as it may, I have my orders.”
“Stupid orders, and ones that will end updoing Primus more harm than good, but he’s too thick to know it.”There was no missing the bitterness in Masala’s voice, and Iwondered what had happened between the two to sour the younger manon the Praetor.
“So what are you suggesting?”
I was being extremely careful not to doanything more than ask questions, recognizing that it was entirelypossible Primus had instructed Masala to try to entrap me in someway, although I had been standing right there.
“Let me think for a moment,” Masala repliedand we rode a little farther along.
It was about then that another event tookplace, with the return of the rest of the cavalry from theirpursuit of the Thracians. Most of the horses were being ridden, yetthere were a few with what looked like shapeless lumps slung overthe saddle being led by other men. This meant we had takencasualties, not that unusual, and there were not very many. It tookmy eyes a moment to find Scribonius, and I felt a surge of reliefat the sight of him sitting straight and tall in the saddle. Thenmy gaze naturally looked past him, realizing that he was one of themen leading a horse. Once they were close enough, I scanned thefaces of the Tribunes, seeing Libo, Lucullus, and finally, Silanus.Capito had remained with his auxiliaries, leaving one unaccountedfor.
“Oh no,” I said softly, trotting over tomeet Scribonius.
His face was gray from exhaustion, and therewere lines of deep sorrow etched in his face.
“Titus, I’m so sorry. I failed you.”
I stared at the body slung over the saddle,the face turned away from me, but I could plainly see that it wasthe young Tribune, and I also saw the blood soaking the side of histunic where his cuirass did not cover it.
“You didn’t fail me,” I said before I couldstop myself, feeling the sorrow rising in my throat like bile. “Youfailed him.”
I have heard it said that when a man looksback on his years and feels regret, it’s rarely for things he hasdone, but for things he has not done. That may be true for mostmen, yet now that I sit here in my garden, sunning my old bones andtelling my tale to poor Diocles, most of my regrets are aboutthings I have done. Some I have spoken
