Domina Victrix

Chapter 77: 33 AD, Jerusalem and Gaul

Julia Livilla woke as the sun peeked over the horizon. She could hear Vinicius breathing. He was still asleep. He snored. She supposed most men did, but it had not kept her awake. She thought over her circumstances. Like her two sisters, she was married now and joining her husband on his posting. Young Agrippina was in Germania, Drusilla was in Asia. They were getting the life their mother had, following their father on his campaigns. She was born in Antioch and barely a year old when Germanic died, so had no conscious memories of any of it. Now, she would experience it for herself.

Julia knew the history of her family. So many men had died before their time, including her father and Nero. She was sure Drusus would follow. So would her mother, as had her grandmother Julia and her cousin Livilla. Her only safety, at least for now, was the man asleep beside her, her father-in-law, her cousin Beaky, and Governor Bricius, and she had pissed them all off at the wedding banquet. She tiptoed to the pot and returned to the bed. Vinicius roused.

"I smell sausage cooking," he mumbled.

"Maybe they'll feed us," Julia said.

"Nope, we're on our own," he said with a grin.

She snuggled up to him with a kiss.

"I'm in the best company, then," she said.

....

Cassius Scaevus made his way to the praetorium, or main office, and let himself in. Six centuries of eighty soldiers and twenty orderlies apiece made up a cohort. Two such cohorts were under one junior Tribune. Centurions were expected to run their units so much of what a tribune did was administrative. Scaevus hated desk work, and tried to do his early each morning and get it out of the way. Iolarix was seated at his corner of the worktable, finalizing correspondence.

"Good morning," he said.

Scaevus mumbled something in his direction and took a seat as far from him as he could. There was one particular aspect of army life everyone expected. At least one of the junior tribunes was bound to be a relative or family friend of the commander and playing favorites was part of the process. So, too, was working with officers of high social rank, who always got cushy assignments. As far as Scaevus was concerned, though, Iolarix could take the desk work and kissing up to the command staff. He seemed to enjoy it.

Scaevus opened the signifers' acounts for each century in his command. Men pooled their resources on two levels. A decanus handled the money for mess and sutler expenses, also the funeral fund. The men kept track of these accounts on their own. The signifer acted as a banker, holding portions of men's pay as a reserve for retirement or disability and deducting funds for extra uniform draws, damaged equipment and the like. Scrupulous honesty was required and the commanding tribune was supposed to audit the accounts. Scaevus had struggled with math in school and hated it. Now, as he tried to make sense of the pay records, his frustration mounted.

"Have you ever done accounts," he asked Iolarix without addressing him.

"I do them all the time," he said.

Scaevus kept scanning the figures, not about to ask for help. Iolarix came and sat down beside him.

"What's the trouble?" he asked.

Scaevus went down the figures again, this time out loud. They got more snarled.

"Line item is an art," Iolarix said. "So are running tallies."

He went down the rows, correcting addition and subtraction. Dentatus came in. Scaevus pointed to Iolarix.

"He actually knows this accounts shit," he said.