The Primus Pilus of the 13th waskneeling by a man’s bed, sharing some joke to cheer up the woundedman. I made my way over to him, stopping myself to have a word witha man I recognized from the ranks, although I did not know hisname. Of all the things I missed about being Primus Pilus, it wasthis connection to the men most of all; there were simply too manyfaces and names to remember as Camp Prefect, and I knew that Isounded awkward. Flaminius looked up to see me, nodding toacknowledge my presence, but not stopping what he was doingimmediately. This was a deliberate insult, and I imagine that myfatigue had eroded my patience, because I was unwilling to indulgehis fit of petulance.
“Primus Pilus, I need to speak to youimmediately,” I kept my voice low, yet made sure there was nomistaking my tone. He came quickly enough, his posture stiff, hisface the carefully composed mask of the professional Legionary.
“Follow me,” I said curtly, leaving the tentwithout glancing back to see if he was following. Outside, Iscanned the area to find a spot where we could talk without pryingears. Finding one, I turned to address the Primus Pilus. Flaminiuswas standing at intente, a clear signal that he was notplanning on making this easy, and I stifled a sigh.
“Flaminius, I already told you that I made amistake, and I am sorry for making it.”
“Yes, sir, you did. Much appreciated,sir.”
Flaminius’ words were clipped, his eyesfixed at a point above my head. I had to fight the urge to grab theman by the shoulders or slap him across the face. Instead, I askedwearily, “All right. You win. What do you want?”
My question clearly confused him, the maskslipping a bit, his eyes darting to me uncertainly.
“Sir? I’m not sure I understand.”
“Of course you do,” I snapped. “It’s clearthat you’re looking for something more than my heartfelt apologyfor being too stubborn and thinking that your men could perform aswell as I had thought.”
It was a shabby trick to pull on the man,but I saw that what was ailing Flaminius was a bad case ofself-pity. I saw the flash of anger in his eyes at the slight tothe men of his Legion, but his tone was controlled.
“Sir I assure you that I’m not looking foranything for myself.”
“All right, for the men, then. What do youwant from me?”
Finally, Flaminius understood, his shouldersslumping. Dropping his head, he closed his eyes tightly, shakinghis head.
“Nothing,” he said finally. “I don’t wantanything. It’s just that…”
“I know,” I said softly, reaching out togive him a squeeze of his shoulder. “This is the first time you hadto watch your men stand in the line and get cut down, and it’s aterrible, terrible thing to see something you love so much takethat kind of punishment.”
Flaminius finally let go, his body shakingas he lost control of his emotions.
“And I didn’t help matters any, and for thatI am truly, truly sorry,” I continued.
I felt awkward, thinking that perhaps Ishould try to embrace the man, but not knowing him well enough tofeel comfortable doing so. Instead, I stood helplessly, watchinghim silently sobbing out his grief. Flaminius managed to composehimself after a moment, yet refused to meet my gaze, and I know hefelt ashamed.
Deciding that I could offer him somecomfort, I told him, “After my first battle as Primus Pilus duringthe civil war under Caesar, I cried all night afterward. I had justsent men I had been marching with my whole career to their deaths,and it was the most horrible feeling I had ever had. I wondered ifI had made the right choice in chasing my dream of becoming PrimusPilus.”
As I suspected, I got a guilty, surprisedlook from the Primus Pilus, confirming my belief that these werethe emotions he was experiencing. His anger was more at himselfthan at me, because he found himself questioning all the decisionshe had made that led him to this point.
“Flaminius, you need to realize something.What would have happened if you hadn’t been Primus Pilus?”
The other man looked at me warily, not surewhere I was going with my line of questioning. Finally, he gave ashrug, saying he did not know.
“The exact same thing,” I said firmly.“Instead of you, it would be someone else visiting that hospital,someone else I’d be having this conversation with. It’s inevitablein our business that men die, and someone has to give the order tosend those men to do the business of the Legions. There will alwaysbe a Primus Pilus, just as there will always be a Legion to doRome’s bidding. So instead of asking ‘Why me,’ you need to askyourself, ‘Am I doing the best I can for these men,’ knowing thatsometimes it won’t be enough. Some men will die.”
My words may have been harsh, but he seemedto take some comfort from them. Seeing that he was in a betterframe of mind, I gave him another pat on the shoulder.
“Go back to your men, Primus Pilus. Theyneed you.”
The salute Flaminius rendered this time wasperfect, with no trace of hostility.
“Thank you, Prefect. And I’m…”
“I know,” I finished for him. There had beenenough words between us this night. Besides, I was not throughapologizing for the events of this day, and I had businesselsewhere.
Despite my exhaustion, I knew that I wouldnot be able to rest until I made things right with Scribonius, andI headed to his tent on the street devoted to the Evocati. When Igot there, my friend was not in his tent, his servant telling me
