The rest of their men, new and old, were miles away up the coast, well hidden from casual patrols. Only the five of them had come into the port to decide where to go from there. It had been strange to be met and challenged by legionaries as they approached the first warehouses, but for most of the five officers the main feeling had been relief. The months along the coast were made into a distant adventure by the first clear order in Latin to identify themselves. At least the story of being taken by pirates had not caused more than a raised eyebrow as the soldiers took in the clean armor and serviceable weapons they wore. For that alone, their pride made the officers thankful. It would have been unpleasant to arrive as beggars.

“How long before the quaestor gets here?” Prax asked, looking at Gaditicus. As centurion, it was he who had spoken to the Roman officer in charge of the port, agreeing to meet later at the inn near the docks. It was a small point of tension that they all felt. The other officers had become so used to looking to Julius for the way forward that the reminder of their ranks sat awkwardly with them. Suetonius could barely keep himself from smiling.

Gaditicus sipped at his wine, grimacing slightly as it stung a sore on his gums.

“He said by the fourth hour, so we have a little time yet. He will have to send a report back to Rome that we are alive and well. No doubt he will offer us a berth on a merchant ship going that way.”

He seemed lost in thought like the others, barely able to accept they had come back to civilization. Someone in the crowd brushed against him as he passed behind and Gaditicus stiffened. They had been away from the bustle of towns and ports for a long time.

“You can take a ship home if you want,” Julius said quietly, looking around the table at the five men. “I’m going on, though.”

For a moment, no one responded, then Prax spoke. “Including us, we have thirty-eight. How many of those have the skill and discipline to fight, Julius?”

“With the Accipiter officers, I would say no more than twenty. The rest are what we found, farmers with swords.”

“Then it can’t be done,” Pelitas said gloomily. “Even if we could find Celsus, and the gods know that won’t be easy, we don’t have enough men to be sure of beating him.”