Chapter 17: A Legend in the Making
Marcus whistled a jaunty tune as he headed away from the Legion's camp and toward Habersville. The darkening sky heralded the coming end of a long and productive day. Alas, his work was not yet finished. Not quite yet.
His talk with Secundus had gone well, far better than he'd hoped. The man was a worldly fellow—not exactly quick to laugh but pleasant and familiar with the ways of the world. As such, reaching an understanding was not difficult. Of course he was more than willing to give a specific auxiliary some special treatment, given the right motivations.
Luckily, these "perfect soldiers" were not the paragons of moral virtue he'd initially anticipated. It seemed that in this army, like almost any other, purchasing commissions or similar "arrangements" were commonplace. If that meant having an important person's son on lighter duty rather than digging ditches every day, well, that could be arranged—so long as you knew the right questions to ask of the right people and their price.
It was particularly fortunate that Margaret's wishes for her grandson involved both a greater burden of responsibility and difficult work. That made the ask far more palatable—and less expensive—than it could have been. But the specifics didn't concern Marcus. The washerwoman was sharp enough to put the information and connections he'd gathered to use. If everything went well, her grandson might be in for a potentially long and lucrative career in the military.
He intended to pay her a visit to inform her of the news before taking care of a few more errands. Yet before Marcus made it to the gate, a relatively young Legionnaire ran up to him.
"Sir! Legatus Tiberius requests your presence!"
Marcus frowned. Their last meeting for the day had long since ended. "Did he mention the reason?"
The Legionnaire shook his head. "No, sir. But I think it might have something to do with that."
He followed the Legionnaire's arm as he pointed westward. It only took a moment to pick out the source of his comment—a growing plume of smoke, the orange glow at its base peeking above the trees as though the sun were having second thoughts about retiring.