I must admit that I had not quite looked atit in this manner. Personally, I had not been viewing it thatMarcus Primus was more interested in taking Serdica, instead justassuming that he was too lazy to put in the extra time it wouldtake to reach the real Triballi lands, which were farthernortheast. I sat thinking about what Columella had said, realizingthat I could not provide any answer to him. I shot a glance atDiocles, seeing that he was as unsettled as I was, and Iexperienced one of those moments that old veterans who have lost alimb talk about, because I almost turned to ask Scribonius what hethought. Being born an equestrian, and having been involved evenperipherally in the Catiline conspiracy seemed to have endowed himwith an ability to untangle the labyrinthine maze that constitutesthe minds of upper-class Romans with political ambitions.
“What is there about Serdica that’s soimportant to him?” I mused aloud, tacitly accepting this new lineof logic from Columella. For his part, the Evocatus looked evenmore worried than when he had sat down.
“I had been really hoping that if anyoneknew, it would be you,” he said, the disappointment in his tonefeeling like a rebuke, even though I knew it was not meant thatway.
“That makes two of us, Columella,” was all Icould think to say. Masala, I thought suddenly; perhaps it’s timeto push Primus’ aide for information.
“I’ll try to find out more,” I promisedColumella, who departed back to the Evocati, albeit empty handed,or headed, as it were.
“I hadn’t thought about that,” I said aloudto Diocles.
“Neither had I,” he admitted. “I’ll try andfind out what I can.”
“So will I,” I replied.
Then it was time to eat, and I found thateven with this new question nagging at me, I had quite an appetite.When I was finished, I rolled up in my cloak, looking up at thestars, trying to remember the last time I had slept out in theopen. That was the last thing I remember.
Diocles called to me shortly before dawn,having long since learned the danger of touching me while I wasasleep, and I sat up to stretch, feeling the aches and pains fromthe hard ground.
“Titus, you are getting softer with eachpassing day,” I grumbled to myself, except I said it aloud, causingDiocles to give a short laugh.
As was his habit, he had risen before me,and again the fire was already starting to come back to life. Hewas heating some wine, which I had gotten in the habit of drinkingon chilly mornings. Down the slope, along the roadway and scatteredabout the lower slopes the army was shaking itself awake. I couldhear those Centurions who liked getting a jump on things, beforethe bucina call that signaled the official start of the day,yelling at their men to rouse them, which was met by the usualchorus of groans and curses. In other words, a normal day for thearmy, except the truth was that it was not going to be a quiet,normal day. At least, so I hoped, although I could not ignore thepossibility that the wall would somehow hold. I had no way ofknowing if the two Cohorts of the 8th had made itundetected, yet there had been no alarm raised in the fortress atnight, so I assumed they had been successful in the first part oftheir mission. With the men slowly beginning their morning routine,I took the time to stretch, then perform some exercises to loosenup my muscles, an activity that drew a concerned frown fromDiocles.
“You’re not thinking of leading theassault?,” he asked in an accusing tone.
“No,” I was equally defensive, “I don’t planon leading the assault.”
Mollified, he turned back to his task ofpreparing a light breakfast, the light growing slowly stronger.Here in the shadow of the large mountain, we would not actually seethe sun for some time, but the sky was still turning a lightershade of gray. The bucina sounded the call to rise, even asmost of the men had long since been up and about. Meanwhile Iwondered how much peace and quiet I would have before Marcus Primusshowed up. He had of course returned to camp to spend the night inhis own bed in the Praetorium, and I could not imagine hewould show up before mid-morning. The walls of the fortress becamemore defined, changing from just a blacker mass to a definedstructure, and before long we could see men on the ramparts peeringdown, taking advantage of the momentary lull before we resumed thebombardment. Flavianus had already returned under cover ofdarkness, and was now behind the protection of the plutei¸joining his men who had spent the night there. They began theirpreparations to resume, removing the ten pound balls from theirracks, more of which had been brought to their position during thenight. Seeing me look at him, the engineering officer gave a curtnod, which I returned, knowing that the moment he felt it to be theright time, with enough light to see the target he would give theorder to resume. Finally, he deemed that the lighting was adequateenough, but just when he was about to give the order to fire, theSerdi beat us to it, their archers suddenly appearing on therampart, firing a volley all at once, after which each man fired asquickly as he could draw the bow back to loose another missile. Inthe space of a moment, the air was thick with flying arrows, ourmen shouting warnings to each other, with those who couldscrambling down the hill away from the artillery to get out ofrange. While this was understandable, I knew that our whole siegewas in more danger at that moment than it had ever been if thescorpion gunners did not brave this fire and knock the Thraciansoff the wall. It would be a matter of another few heartbeats beforetheir artillery was pulled into place, whereupon Greek firemissiles would be raining down on the plutei andballistae. If that happened, there would be no stopping themfrom being consumed by the flames, since the sticky substance isalmost impossible to get off of wood.
“Flavianus,
