He glanced over at Paulus, taking in the heavily bandaged hands and the still-swollen face. Julius admired that he had refused to be carried in a litter, determined to show himself unbeaten after his torture. Fair enough that the man wanted to come back to town at the head of a small army. There were men like him all over Roman lands. They had little support from the Senate and were like small kings who nonetheless depended on the goodwill of the locals to make things happen as they wanted. When that goodwill failed, Julius knew, a thousand small things could make life very difficult. No wood or food delivered except at sword-point, roads damaged, small fires set. Nothing to turn out the guards for, but constant irritations, like burrs caught in the skin.

From what the governor said of the life, Paulus seemed to enjoy the challenges. Julius had been surprised to note that his main feeling was not anger at his ordeal, but sadness that people he had trusted had turned against him. Julius wondered if he would be so trusting in the future.

The legionaries marched through the town, ignoring the stares and sudden movement as mothers cleared playing children from their path. Most of the Romans were feeling the aches of the night before and were pleased to reach the governor’s home in the center. They formed a square in front of the building, and Julius saw one of the benefits of the post Paulus held, in the beauty of the white walls and ornamental pools. It was a piece of Rome, transplanted into the Greek countryside.

Paulus laughed aloud as his children came running to greet him. He went down on one knee, letting them embrace him while he kept his broken hands clear. His wife too came out to see him, and Julius could see tears in her eyes, even from the second rank. A lucky man.

“Tesserarius Caesar, stand forward,” Gaditicus ordered, startling Julius out of his thoughts. Julius moved quickly and saluted. Gaditicus looked him over, his expression unreadable.

Paulus disappeared into his home with his family, and all the ranks waited patiently for him, happy enough to stand in the warmth of the afternoon sunshine with no jobs to be done.

Julius’s mind churned, wondering why he had been ordered to stand out alone and how Suetonius would feel if it was a promotion. The governor was not able to order Gaditicus to give him a new post, but his recommendation was unlikely to be ignored.

At last Paulus returned, his wife walking out with him. He filled his lungs to address all the men together, and his voice was warm and strong.

“You have restored me to my position and my family. Rome thanks you for your service. Centurion Gaditicus has agreed that you may take a meal here. My servants are preparing my best food and drink for you all.” He paused and his gaze fell on Julius.

“I witnessed great bravery last night, from one man in particular who risked his own life to save mine. To him, I award the honor wreath, to mark his courage. Rome has brave sons and I stand here today to prove it.”