Crispinus had hoped to parade the legion and march out before dawn, but everything was taking too long. For all the training they had done, they had not practised getting ready for a long campaign and there was more confusion than he would have liked. Some was his fault because he had not given detailed orders for issuing hard tack and other rations to be carried by each soldier, and his subordinates had not thought to do so. Like him they had assumed that the normal regulations would suffice, but still ultimately it was his fault for not thinking to check. He had not served with the army for more than a decade and he realised that he had forgotten so much. Ferox always seemed to know what to do and remembered to do it, a habit as useful as it was infuriating, and Crispinus regretted not having talked to the man at more length before sending him with the advance party. It was too late now, and better that he was not here to wait in silence, his face so impassive that it was almost worse than seeing him look smug.

Caecilius was even more experienced and here with them; Crispinus was not sure whether the man had not realised the scale of the task facing them or chosen not to speak, wanting to be asked his opinion. The primus pilus was an odd fish, and for all the flattery of recent days, there may have been a good reason why he had been passed over for promotion until now. Caecilius had warned them at the start that they could not be ready for a proper siege and move quickly, and the last days, let alone this morning, had proved him right. He was not a man to crow, and instead the primus pilus shouted himself hoarse as he scurried about, trying to bring some method and haste to it all, yet now and then Crispinus thought he spotted an air of satisfaction about the fellow. Rufus was with the primus pilus, and the two were so far working better together than Crispinus had hoped. His broad-stripe tribune had still not arrived, while the praefectus castrorum had gone down with fever and would be staying behind. Crispinus suspected that the illness was feigned, and neither man was much of a loss in themselves, but it did mean fewer pairs of hands for the biggest tasks. Arrian was shaping up nicely, and by far the pick of the narrow-stripe tribunes, which was why Crispinus had sent him with the advance party. They should be at the river by now, further south to give them a much quicker route to Nicopolis. They were to cross by raft and boat tomorrow night, or sooner if the signal was given.