Nobody Loves a Centurion by John Maddox Roberts

Henceforth, we shall speak with arms.”
    The Gauls and the Germans swept out. Last of all went the Druids, who had not spoken a single word. Caesar glared angrily after them, but I saw that his most malevolent expression was not directed at the chieftains. It was reserved for the Druids. When they were gone, he addressed the officers.
    “Gentlemen, from now on we may expect serious hostilities. However, work on the rampart is now complete and we are receiving daily reinforcements of troops levied from the Provincials. These will man the strongpoints along the rampart. The legionary guard is to be doubled. Go now and rejoin your units and prepare for action.”
    I got up to leave with Lovernius, but Caesar beckoned me.
    “Decius Caecilius, attend me.”
    I waited while the other officers left. Titus Vinius favored me with an ugly smile as he walked out with his even uglier slave. Caesar went into his tent and I joined him there. It was divided into two sections, the smaller being Caesar’s sleeping quarters, the larger containing a long table for staff conferences when weather should preclude holding them outdoors. A silver pitcher stood in the middle of a platter with cups and at Caesar’sgesture I poured for us. It was first-rate Falernian. Caesar wasn’t denying himself all of the pleasures of life while on active service.
    “Word has come to me of your little run-in with Titus Vinius,” he said without preamble.
    I had been expecting it. “A legion is like a small village. Everyone knows everyone else’s business.”
    “In this Province there is only my business,” he said. “You are not to interfere with my centurions in the performance of their duties.”
    “Duties! Caesar, the brute was flogging a boy, a client of mine, for no reason whatever. I could not permit it.”
    “That was no boy, nor is he your client. He is a Roman soldier, bound by his oath of service like every other legionary. When he returns to civilian life in some twenty years, he will become your client again. In the meantime, he is under the authority of his centurion, unless he attains the centurionate himself and gets to flog his own subordinates. I’ll not have Vinius provoked. He is my most valuable soldier.”
    “He is an oversensitive man, where his property is concerned.”
    Caesar smiled faintly. “Ah, you’ve met our Freda, I take it. A stunning creature, is she not?”
    “She is that. Why do you permit him to keep her in camp? He is so jealous he needs his own personal executioner to follow her around and behead gawkers.”
    “I permit my centurions a certain latitude, including a small number of personal slaves, even mistresses.”
    “Every general does, but in barracks and winter quarters, not in a marching camp.”
    “When we march, they walk with the baggage train. If theycan’t keep up, they are abandoned. Not that there is much danger of that happening with Freda. I suspect she can outrun a racehorse.” He waved a hand to dismiss the subject. “I did not call you here to justify my policies, Decius. I have duties for you. I mentioned when you arrived that you would have more work here in the praetorium than with your ala .”
    “Whatever you command,” I said, always alert for a nice, cushy staff job while other people were out slogging through the mud, getting things stuck in them. Heroes belong in poems and old myths, not in the boots of Decius Caecilius Metellus the Younger.
    “Soon I will be leaving for Italy by the most direct route, over the mountains. Labienus will be in charge during my absence. My fine, ringing defiance of the barbarians will prove most hollow without the legions to back them up. I am going to find them and drag them up here by the nose if I have to.”
    “A couple more legions would be a comforting presence,” I agreed.
    “While I am away, I want you to organize my dispatches to the Senate. I intend to provide a detailed history of the campaign for the Conscript Fathers, as