~ ~ ~ ~
Finally done with his other business, Caesar turned to me, ordering the slaves who hovered in the corners to move the table he had been working on next to my couch. “You don't mind if I stand while we work, do you, Primus Pilus?” Caesar asked me, as if I would even think to say that I did mind, but these little things that Caesar did that made him different from every other patrician I ever met. I shook my head, and satisfied, Caesar then turned to Octavian, beckoning him to stand beside Caesar. “Pullus, I'd like you to meet my niece Atia’s boy, Gaius Octavius,” Caesar announced.
Caesar’s pride was obvious and to my eye, completely unfeigned, and I had enough experience with Caesar that I was sure I could tell if it was. I struggled to my feet to offer my hand, pleasantly surprised at the firmness of Octavian’s grip, though the skin was soft and smooth, a sign that he had not been partaking of the military training that all fine young men are supposed to go through at his age.
“Young Master Octavius, it's an honor to meet you,” I could not bring myself to call him “sir,” so I decided that this was the least offensive alternative, but neither he nor Caesar seemed to notice or mind.
“No, Primus Pilus, the honor and pleasure is mine. You're a legend, and my uncle has spoken very highly of you.”
Now, I am just as susceptible to flattery, perhaps even more so, than any man, and I felt my heart soften towards the boy, thinking that perhaps I had been harsh in my initial assessment.
“I was hoping that you'd be my guest at dinner tonight,” Octavius continued. “I have so many questions about your experiences that it would take many, many thirds of a watch, but if I could have just a few of them tonight to at least ask the most pressing questions, I'd be eternally in your debt.”
Oh, he was smooth, knowing all the right strings to pluck, and while I had warmed to the boy considerably, there was still something in me that caused me to hold back, though I still did not fully understand what it was.
“It would be my honor and my pleasure, young Master,” I replied, then with those details seen to, Caesar indicated that I should resume my spot on the couch so we could begin our work.
~ ~ ~ ~
There were 35 slots in the Centurionate that needed to be filled in the 10th as it was brought back up to full strength, slightly more than half. In addition, we had to make decisions about how best to assign those Centurions who had decided to stay on for another enlistment. In the past, the usual custom was just to shift all the Centurions into the leading Cohorts until all the spots were filled, then bring in new Centurions, or men from other Legions who were looking to advance but could not in their existing Legion to fill out the rest. However, neither Caesar nor I were proponents of this method, no matter how entrenched in custom and tradition that it may have been. The problem, at least to our minds, was obvious. While the first four or five Cohorts would be led by experienced men, the rest of the Legion would be filled with green men at all levels. The more sensible approach would be to salt every Cohort with experienced Centurions, but there was a challenge with this approach, which was behind the reason why the system of promotion had been done in the manner it had been for all these years. With the old system, every remaining Centurion was almost guaranteed of a promotion, some of them jumping several grades at once. This enticement was responsible for the high retention rate of the Centurions compared to the rest of the men, but the rumors had already spread that Caesar would be doing things differently. As a result, several Centurions had come to me in the days before, seeking reassurance that if they chose to stay they would be rewarded with promotion, a promise that I could not give because I was not sure exactly what was going to happen. Caesar and I had enough discussions over the years that I had a feeling for his thoughts on how to handle this delicate matter, but since he had never given me any concrete plan before this, I was unwilling to stake my personal reputation on the outcome. Now, while we had 35 Centurions who had indicated they would stay, relatively few of them had signed their new enlistment oaths, choosing to wait to see how things turned out. It was a very tricky situation; while we had to do what was best for the Legion, we also had to keep the self-interest of the Centurions in mind, or we would lose the majority of the men who were staying on. Caesar decided that our first order of business was to arrange the disposition of the re-enlisting Centurions, before we began discussing candidates for the Centurionate. Next on the list were the Optios, who presented their own set of challenges, though not as pressing. As the scribes began laying out the scrolls containing the records of the Centurions, Caesar ordered some of the slaves to leave the room to fetch something. When they returned, they were carrying in a large board, with legs attached so that it stood almost like a wall. While I had seen Caesar use such a device to hang maps on, this board was different because it was painted with a series of columns and rows, each of which had markings heading each column. It took me a moment to recognize that the columns were the numbers of each Cohort, and the rows were for each Century. There were hooks attached to the board, at the junction point of every Century and Cohort. I was puzzling over this when another set of slaves walked in, each carrying a handful of tiles, which they set on the table. I looked at the tiles, and saw that they each had a hole in them. Finally, on every tile was written a name, the names of the thirty-five Centurions.