Quertorus raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t mean to, sir. I did my twenty years with the First Cyrenaica, ten of them as optio.”

Some instinct prompted Julius to ask, “The last ten?”

Quertorus cleared his throat and looked away for a moment. “More like ten in the middle, sir. Lost my rank toward the end for excessive gambling.”

“I see. Well, Quertorus. It seems we’re gambling again, you and I,” Julius said quietly.

Quertorus beamed at him, revealing missing teeth in his lower jaw. “I wouldn’t bet against them, sir, not if you knew them.”

Julius eyed the massed ranks with less confidence than he showed. “I hope you’re right. Now step into rank yourself and I’ll address them.”

For a second, he thought Quertorus might refuse and he wondered if the man had lost his rank for more than just gambling, a fairly common occupation of legionaries not on duty. Then the bald man stepped into the ranks and came to attention, his eyes on Julius with interest. Julius filled his lungs with air.

“Veterans of Rome!” he bellowed, making those closest to him jump. He’d always had a powerful voice, but part of him wondered if it would be enough if some of them were deaf.

“My men and I passed two villages to the south before we came here, collecting recruits. The news we heard is that Mithridates is camped about a hundred miles to the west. You can be sure that fresh Roman legions will be on the march as I speak, coming east from the coast ports at Dyrrhachium and Apollonia. I intend to force him toward them; to be the hammer for the Roman anvil.”

He had their interest, all right. Every eye was on him, from his own men and the grizzled veterans. He thanked his gods for the decision to march ten miles north to recruit at the city.

“With you, I have a thousand at my command to attack Mithridates. Some from this city and the villages are untrained. Others I have brought with me are used only to fighting at sea in Roman galleys. You were the land legions and you must be the backbone as we march. I will give each of you a sword brother from my men to train.”

He paused, but there was silence and he knew then that the veterans still remembered the old discipline. He wondered how many would last the miles before they even saw action. With young, fresh soldiers, he could cover the distance in less than three or four days, but with these? There was no way of knowing.

“I need one of you to be quartermaster, preparing packs, equipment, and food from what you can find within the city walls.”

Quertorus stepped forward, his eyes glinting with pleasure.

“Quertorus?” Julius said to him.

“Quartermaster, sir, with your permission. I’ve been wanting a chance to poke the eye of the council for a long time.”