Chapter 2 The Thracians
Dawn came to the camp shortly afterScribonius slipped away, while I had returned to my tent toretrieve the new report. This would be a night without sleep, but Ihad experienced many of those in my career. I knew that if I satdown, or even worse, lay down, I would not get back up, so insteadI stood, eating a bit of my unfinished meal from the night before,now seeming like it had happened a year ago. I waited for thebucina call to rouse the rest of the camp, but I knew therewere a fair number of men like me who had not gotten any sleep. Theone good thing about this day after a battle was that we would notbe marching, instead consigning our dead to the flames and allowingthe wounded to stabilize somewhat before being loaded onto wagons.I was sure that once I got through fooling Marcus Primus, I couldget some sleep, an extremely pleasant thought on both counts. I wasalmost finished eating when the bucina sounded the call Ihad been waiting for, and once I was through, I left the tent andheaded back to the Praetorium. It had taken some doing, butwe had finally gotten Marcus Primus into the habit of rising withthe bucina like the rest of the army. Masala had more to dowith that than any of us, so I was fairly confident I would nothave to wait long.
There was already activity at the tent, andI was slightly puzzled when I saw two of the clerks carrying outthe wooden box that contained some of the paperwork that is as mucha part of the army as the Legionary. It almost seemed like theywere packing to march; when I entered, that feeling was reinforcedby the sight of the other clerks breaking down their desks andother equipment. Lucullus, Silanus, and Libo entered shortly afterI had, looking as confused as I felt.
“What’s going on?” Lucullus asked me, hiseyes puffy, with dark circles under them betraying his lack ofsleep, and I remembered that he and Scipio had become goodfriends.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “But I alsowanted to tell you that I grieve for Scipio as well. He was a goodyoung Tribune, and it’s a very sad business.”
He flashed me a grateful look, and I assumedit was for not ignoring his obvious grief the way many men do.
“Thank you, Prefect. I heard a rumor,though, and I hope it’s not true.”
I braced myself, knowing what he was goingto say.
“Is it true about Evocatus Scribonius?” heasked.
“Yes, I’m afraid it is,” I nodded, thankfulat least that I was not having to feign my own grief.
Lucullus gave me a puzzled look, and Inoticed that Silanus and Libo had drifted closer, so I decided thatit was best to address all of them.
“But I distinctly remember him returningwith us, and he was fine,” Lucullus was saying.
“Yes, he was,” I agreed. “But then he wentback out to look for Munatius, who was still missing. He wasambushed by some Thracians who had been hiding in the woods.”
Despite making this up as I went along, Irealized that I had to get to Munatius to at least hear what hisstory was, then to plant my own with him in the event that he wasasked. Fortunately, the Tribunes seemed to accept this without muchquestion, each of them murmuring their own condolences, lookinggenuinely sorrowful, yet another confirmation of how well my friendhad been liked.
“As far as what’s going on,” I continued,“no, I don’t know. But I’ll go find out.”
I headed towards Primus’ private office justin time to see Masala emerge, grim-faced.
“What’s going on?” I demanded. “Why does itlook like we’re packing to move?”
“Why do you think?” he snapped, clearlyunhappy. “The Praetor has decided we need to press on.”
“What?” I was incredulous. “And what are wesupposed to do about our dead?”
Masala heaved a sigh that was so weary ittold me that he had been fighting this fight for some time.
“I told him that,” he replied patiently.“But that battle yesterday scared him badly. He originally wantedto turn around and march back to Siscia, but I convinced him thatthe army would likely revolt if they came all this way, and losttheir friends for nothing.”
“That they would,” I agreed.
My respect for Masala was growing bit bybit; while I did not trust his motives, I could not argue with hisanalysis of the situation. If Primus had indeed ordered the army toturn around without the chance of plunder, I and the Primi Piliwould have had our hands full from keeping the men from rising.
“Still, he wants to get to Serdica and getthis campaign over with.”
“What happened to his desire to avenge theinsult done to us at the hands of the Thracians?”
Masala shrugged, saying nothing. Lookingpast him, I saw that Marcus Primus was pushing the flap aside fromhis private quarters, so I stepped past Masala, holding up the waxtablet. I decided on the spot that broaching the subjectimmediately would be a mistake. Instead, I offered him my waxtablet, which was a trifle unusual since it is normally given tothe clerk, who then presents the combined casualty report.
“I have the casualty report for the Evocatiprepared,” I
