The Emperor opened his mouth, but I wasn’t having any of his excuses. Jaws dropped further in the circle of guards and officers behind him (and hands hovered over sword hilts) as I jabbed a finger into Trajan’s chest and told him at the top of my lungs that he was an idiot. An idiot to get that close to the enemy, and an even greater idiot for getting that close to the enemy during an active attack. When I ran out of things to tell him I just cursed. When I ran out of curses, I just glared. The Emperor of Rome gazed at me in silent amusement, and when I finally trailed off, he patted my wounded shoulder.

“There, there, boy. Don’t excite yourself.”

“EXCITE MYSELF?” I shouted, and that probably would have started me off again, but even that gentle pat had sent a bolt of pain through my arm, and I clutched at the wound with a stifled oath.

“Go get that patched up,” the Emperor told me.

“Yes, Caesar,” I muttered, still scowling.

“Then come see me in my tent. I want you and your men here with me until I take Hatra, but after that I’m dispatching you back to Germania.”

“Germania?” Rage faded abruptly. I started after him as he turned at his usual brisk pace and strode off. I loped to keep up, still holding my shoulder.

“Those Dacians are stirring up trouble again,” Trajan said, not slowing. “Probably think I can’t keep my eye on them from all the way out here, the bastards. And I have been borrowing a bit heavily from the legions back in Germania; they’re stretched thin. You know Dacia, you were there the first time around, so you’ll take your men and the rest of the detachment back, take command of the legion, march on Dacia, and restore order. Congratulations, Vercingetorix.” He thumped me on the unwounded shoulder. “The Tenth Fidelis is yours.”

Mine?

“For—” I heard myself floundering like a boy and saw the other officers exchange glances, looking just as startled as I felt. “Giving me a legion—just for pulling you out of that archer’s way? I didn’t—I mean, I didn’t plan—”

“No, I’d already planned to give you a legion. A bellow like that is wasted on a centurion. Your term as First Spear is up, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Caesar.”