The Centurion's Woman

Chapter 9

IXILLIUS STRODE OUT to the corrals, lost in thought. Alex's attentions this morning left him fully distracted. He told himself again that she couldn't know such familiarity as seeing to armor was a matter of the highest trust, that only certain wives and brothers in arms performed fastenings and unfastenings. She hadn't understood when he'd told her before he left, her smile to him slipping due to the look on his face that he couldn't stop from being there. He flexed again as he reached the corrals. She'd done a good job.

        Brasus said nothing on noting that Ixillius's armor was fully fastened, something he'd expected to have to do, and only raised his eyebrows and turned back to securing the saddle of his horse when Ixillius also said nothing. They rode out together to the assembly area of the morning patrols. The men Brasus had called for hurried up to their commanders and quickly formed into neat lines moments before the patrol troop inspection started.

        The Centurion that Ixillius and his men would be under while marching to Rome, Aquilus Naevius of Minerva's 1st Legion's 2nd Cohort and 3rd Century, was also in charge of the Bonna patrol schedule and inspections. The bitter Patrician scowled deeply at the smart ranks of Ixillius's men, mostly freemen with a few equestrians even lower-ranking than Ixillius himself. Ixillius made a mental note that he would have to speak to Brasus later about purposefully rankling their soon-to-be, socially-minded commander.

        Ixillius's troop saluted smartly on the clipped command from Brasus, and Aquilus Naevius nearly snarled as he roughly turned and kicked his mount to the next troop. Some of the hurriedly assembling men there became the new target of his distemper.

        Ixillius breathed a sigh of relief as inspections ended and they were sent out of the city proper on morning patrols. In just a few minutes of leaving sight of the surrounding encampments, Brasus began to whistle cheerfully, riding close to his Centurion.

        "Almost all my men are patricians and equestrians, yet you assemble nearly all my freemen and fill in the voids of the patrol troop with the lowest equestrian sons we have," Ixillius stated flatly as the song Brasus whistled drew to a close.

        "Oh, did I?" Brasus replied, turning to Ixillius with surprised innocence.

        "Yes, you did. And for a patrol inspection done by the most socially class-minded patrician in all the Empire," Ixillius frowned as he spoke, but it did little to dim Brasus's already wide smirk.

        "I simply chose," he started, then stood in his stirrups and half-turned back to the men marching behind, speaking in half a shout so each could clearly hear him. "I simply chose the men I knew would assemble the smartest and the fastest, Centurion, to ensure this morning's short notice would not be a hindrance on our duty to Rome!"

        The grinning men replied in agreement with one voice, accompanied by the banging of each man's fist on his shield.

        "You, Optio," Ixillius replied in the same booming tones, "are an ass whose words might as well be shit for all their worth, and you will be the single cause of our Century digging latrines until our twenty-five are up!"

        The men cheered again, the pounding of fist and shield much louder and followed by ringing laughter. The men of the 6th and 4th were long used to their commanders' squabbling, and often enjoyed taking sides.

        Brasus joined the laughing and slapped his commander and friend on the back.

        "Don't do that again, Brasus," Ixillius laughed.

        "Yes, sir," Brasus answered, pulling a smart salute and still chuckling. Once he was composed enough, Brasus started whistling another tune.