I’m having a lot of fun with my centurion (in the past few days, when I was so worried about my Mum, he was a real life-saver). Here’s the next bit from that conversation with the prefect of the auxiliary fort in the north of Roman Britannia.
Gannius read through another section of the report. “It says here that you were popular with the men under your command; fair and strict; that you received your vine-staff at the tender age of 28 upon the retirement and explicit recommendation of your former centurion Gaius Loreius Sylla, who had made you his optio when you were just 23 and had served in the Eleventh for a mere six years. In addition” — he flipped to the next tablet — “the tribune takes great pains to point out your excellent fighting abilities as well as the outstanding quality of your unflinching leadership of your men in battle.”
Closing the report and shoving the bound tablets to the side, Gannius looked up. “So tell me, Centurion Marcus Florius Corvus, what exactly did you do?”
“Heavens, man, you must have done something to get demoted to a centuria in a mere auxilia.”
“Ah,” Marcus said slowly.
“Yes, ah. And I want to know what it is and whether it’s going to bite my cohort in the arse one of those days.”
P.S.: That something has to do with the heroine.