Final Campaign

that he would never back down from a fight, evenwhen that was the best course of action, making him more similar tome than I cared to admit. I thought Macrinus had done a good job ofchoosing two men who balanced each other out, and would be capableof performing what was likely to be a challenging and dangerousindependent duty. With the bulk of the lower slope of the largemountain in between us and the two Cohorts, they would essentiallybe cut off and on their own. Everything depended on our being ableto create a breach and exploit it quickly, before the garrison inSerdica sent an overwhelming force that these men could not handle.I hoped that augmenting the two Cohorts with slingers would givethem the extra firepower that they needed. I had also considereddetaching two scorpions to go with them, but decided that it wouldbe too difficult in the dark, while the noise of them being brokendown would alert the men inside the fortress that something wasafoot.

“According to what the Tribunes said, theground isn’t quite as rocky on that side,” I told the twoCenturions. “So you should be able to at least throw a ditch andrampart up.”

They both indicated they understood as Icontinued.

“Be sure to detach at least a Century fromeach Cohort to set up a defensive position facing the fortress incase those bastards inside decide to sally out and try to take youfrom behind.”

It was fully dark, with broken cloud coverand only a quarter moon, yet even through the gloom I could seethat while they were both listening politely, they were anxious togo. I remembered what it felt like to have some old man natteringon about things I already knew, so I cut my instructions short.

“We’ll relieve you as soon as we can,” Ipromised them. “Expect to see us coming from behind after we’vetaken the fortress.”

The two Centurions exchanged wishes for luckwith Macrinus and me on the respective endeavors each of us weregoing to undertake, then the men started out. I stood to watch themwalk by, deliberately out of step so that the rhythmic tramping offeet would not carry to the ears of the Serdi. Moving as silentlyas it is possible for more than a thousand men to do, theydisappeared into the gloom on their way. Knowing there was nothingleft to do, I went to find the spot that Diocles had selected forus to spend the night. I had tried to convince my scribe to staybehind in camp and he had refused, although Agis had quite sensiblychosen to remain. Diocles had managed to rig up a makeshift shelteron the hillside a short distance from where the rest of the armyhad bedded down. Fortunately the weather was fair, except it wasstill cold at night because of the altitude, and firewood wasscarce, forcing men to double and triple up around a fire in orderto cook their rations. Once finished, they would be wrapping up intheir cloaks for the night, waiting for the dawn and the suddenviolence of breaching a wall and slaughtering the garrison inside.Not surprisingly, the mood was subdued around each fire, thelaughter softer, the conversations more muted than normal. Dicewere still being thrown, and there was still the inevitablewagering on exactly when the wall would come down, meaning it wasstill a normal night before battle. Diocles had a loaf of bread,along with a thick chunk of meat from one of the horses broilingover a fire, which I found somewhat surprising.

“Where did you get enough wood for a firethat size?”

He looked at me smugly, his features seemingto change as the flickering light illuminated his face.

“If the Camp Prefect’s body slave can’t gethis hands on enough wood to cook a meal, what good is he?”

“Not much,” I admitted, laughing at the lookon his face.

I settled down on the ground where he hadspread my spare cloak, glad that I would have my fur-lined one towrap up in, since I was finding it harder to stay warm at night.Now when I woke in the cold, I found myself much stiffer than I hadbeen in the past. I relaxed, content to watch him go about hisbusiness, thinking about the coming day. I heard someoneapproaching, turning to see Columella, the Evocatus who had been inthe 6^th Ferrata.

“May I join you for a bit?” he asked, and Imotioned for him to sit down.

“Do we have enough to feed this mouth?” Icalled to Diocles, who answered with a nod, his face telling methat he was not happy about it. Fortunately Columella waved himoff.

“I’ve already eaten, thank you Prefect.”

“You know you can call me by name when we’realone,” I reminded him as he sat down on the ground near thefire.

“I know, but we’re outside and I’m afraidthe men might hear. So what do you think of this campaign,Pullus?”

The question caught me completely off guard,as I suppose had been his intention. I saw Diocles look up sharplyfrom what he was doing, eying Columella, who could not see him,with obvious suspicion.

“Why do you ask?” I decided to try to flushout his purpose, and to his credit, he did not hesitate orprevaricate in any way.

“The rest of the Evocati have been talking,and there’s something about this that just doesn’t make sense.”

“Oh?” I asked, keeping my tone noncommittal.“What part of it are you referring to?”

“The part where we launched a campaignagainst someone we’re not at war with,” he answered quickly.

“No, not technically,” I granted. “Butremember, they attacked us when we were with Crassus and werepushing the Bastarnae back into their lands, at the Thracians’original request,” I reminded him.

Columella nodded slowly. Then, he turnedfrom the fire to look me in the eye.

“That’s true, but now we’re not fightingagainst the tribe who did that, and it doesn’t seem to matter tothe Praetor. My understanding of this whole campaign was that wewere going to avenge that attack to teach those bastards a lesson.Still, once we learned that Serdica didn’t even belong to theTriballi, but to the Serdi, we didn’t change our direction and headfor the lands of the tribe that wronged us. That’s the part thatdoesn’t make sense.