mother. “When I said ‘We’re coming with you,’ it was not meant to be taken as a request for you to grant or deny. It was a command . Ignore it at peril to your position and your life.”
Sergius stared at her, and the room was utterly still. No one even dared to breathe. “I do believe, princess,” he said slowly, his lips curling up into a smile that never reached his eyes, “that you mean that.”
“Do not doubt it for a moment.” As Sergius considered her words in silence, she went on, “I have no interest in commandeering your troops or endangering your mission, general. I give you my solemn word on that, and promise to obey Centurion Tullius in all things if battle is joined, both for my own safety and to ensure you enjoy complete freedom to lead your men as you would.” She leaned forward, just slightly. “But I will be going with you tomorrow.”
With a heavy sigh, Sergius waved over a slave to refill his goblet and the one Valeria was clinging to with a white knuckled grip. With a bright smile, he held up his goblet in salute. “I am your humble servant, Princess Valeria, and your wish is my command.”
***
The rest of the dinner was conducted, as Sergius had indicated at the beginning, as more of a pre-deployment staff meeting than a social occasion. The general was outwardly gracious and courteous to his guests, but Valeria could sense that it was an act put on for her benefit after she had put him on the spot.
When she could take no more, she politely excused herself, and she and her small retinue, followed by Hercules, from whom everyone else shrank away in poorly disguised fear, followed the young officer General Sergius had detailed to show the princess to her quarters for the evening.
“Other rooms have been prepared for your companions,” the officer informed her.
“That won’t be necessary,” she replied after quickly surveying the palatial suite. “There is quite enough room here, and my guards always attend me.”
“As my lady wishes.” With a bow, he departed.
She was not surprised when Marcus quickly assigned the men of her guard to every point of entry in the suite, except the massive and ornately furnished main bedroom. As in the palace in Rome, Hercules would serve as her guard in her personal chambers.
While Marcus, Septimus, and Paulus made sure all was secure, Valeria and Pelonius waited in the open courtyard of the peristylium that was part of her suite. The scribe appeared lost in thought, and she chose not to interrupt him.
When Marcus returned with Paulus and Septimus, Valeria asked, “Would one of you explain what really happened at dinner tonight?”
“You made an enemy,” Marcus told her bluntly after taking a quick look about to double check that none of the general’s men or slaves were present, having dismissed them all himself. “A very deadly one.”
She shook her head, bewildered. “What general worthy of the name would take such offense?”
“One who has his heart set upon becoming Caesar,” Marcus told her. “He’s rumored to have…accelerated his advancement by facilitating, shall we say, the demise of certain of his superiors to rise to his current rank, with promise of a seat in the Senate. That, so the story goes, is how he became a general at such an early age.”
“It certainly wasn’t for being a military genius,” Septimus spat.
“The Battle of Agrigentum,” Valeria said. “I could tell from your expressions when he mentioned it that something happened there.”
“Something happened, all right,” Septimus told her in a bitter voice. “The little shit had just taken over the legion before marching it into that battle, where he completely bungled everything. He got his men in a horrible spot, their backs against a deep river facing twice their number and enemy cavalry, to boot. It took four other legions to pull them out of that mess. It should have been an easy battle, as easy as any can be. But he turned
Sergius stared at her, and the room was utterly still. No one even dared to breathe. “I do believe, princess,” he said slowly, his lips curling up into a smile that never reached his eyes, “that you mean that.”
“Do not doubt it for a moment.” As Sergius considered her words in silence, she went on, “I have no interest in commandeering your troops or endangering your mission, general. I give you my solemn word on that, and promise to obey Centurion Tullius in all things if battle is joined, both for my own safety and to ensure you enjoy complete freedom to lead your men as you would.” She leaned forward, just slightly. “But I will be going with you tomorrow.”
With a heavy sigh, Sergius waved over a slave to refill his goblet and the one Valeria was clinging to with a white knuckled grip. With a bright smile, he held up his goblet in salute. “I am your humble servant, Princess Valeria, and your wish is my command.”
***
The rest of the dinner was conducted, as Sergius had indicated at the beginning, as more of a pre-deployment staff meeting than a social occasion. The general was outwardly gracious and courteous to his guests, but Valeria could sense that it was an act put on for her benefit after she had put him on the spot.
When she could take no more, she politely excused herself, and she and her small retinue, followed by Hercules, from whom everyone else shrank away in poorly disguised fear, followed the young officer General Sergius had detailed to show the princess to her quarters for the evening.
“Other rooms have been prepared for your companions,” the officer informed her.
“That won’t be necessary,” she replied after quickly surveying the palatial suite. “There is quite enough room here, and my guards always attend me.”
“As my lady wishes.” With a bow, he departed.
She was not surprised when Marcus quickly assigned the men of her guard to every point of entry in the suite, except the massive and ornately furnished main bedroom. As in the palace in Rome, Hercules would serve as her guard in her personal chambers.
While Marcus, Septimus, and Paulus made sure all was secure, Valeria and Pelonius waited in the open courtyard of the peristylium that was part of her suite. The scribe appeared lost in thought, and she chose not to interrupt him.
When Marcus returned with Paulus and Septimus, Valeria asked, “Would one of you explain what really happened at dinner tonight?”
“You made an enemy,” Marcus told her bluntly after taking a quick look about to double check that none of the general’s men or slaves were present, having dismissed them all himself. “A very deadly one.”
She shook her head, bewildered. “What general worthy of the name would take such offense?”
“One who has his heart set upon becoming Caesar,” Marcus told her. “He’s rumored to have…accelerated his advancement by facilitating, shall we say, the demise of certain of his superiors to rise to his current rank, with promise of a seat in the Senate. That, so the story goes, is how he became a general at such an early age.”
“It certainly wasn’t for being a military genius,” Septimus spat.
“The Battle of Agrigentum,” Valeria said. “I could tell from your expressions when he mentioned it that something happened there.”
“Something happened, all right,” Septimus told her in a bitter voice. “The little shit had just taken over the legion before marching it into that battle, where he completely bungled everything. He got his men in a horrible spot, their backs against a deep river facing twice their number and enemy cavalry, to boot. It took four other legions to pull them out of that mess. It should have been an easy battle, as easy as any can be. But he turned
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