Am I truly the right choice for this job?
“You know,” he was saying in that crinkly old voice that still commanded attention and respect, “maybe getting you out of here will be a good thing for you.”
Annoyed, Octavia looked at the elderly man with brows lifted high in concern. He waved the look away with his cane, the stick moving like some oddly straight extension of his limb.
“Don’t you give me that look, young Pelia.” Octavia remembered the warmth of her blush at those words, uttered by the man who treated her like his own granddaughter. “I know they’ve been giving you grief. You’re the first female senator in the Empire’s history that wasn’t merely a temporary figurehead. They hate you because you are demonstrating talent at politics. And you’re also young. And beautiful, if I do say so.”
Octavia’s cheeks burned, and she knew her pale northern complexion flamed with a blush. Ignatios smiled at her, the laugh lines and crow’s-feet on his face settling into patterns carved by many years of smiles and tears.
He paused at a hallway intersection and faced her. “They fear change. You are change, Minerva incarnate in front of them, and they refuse to accept it. They will fight, with words, maybe even weapons, should they truly perceive the danger they are in. And although you may not know it yet, the system they represent is in great danger.” His words came as barely more than a whisper now, but they were delivered with feeling.
“So going with the northern expedition will be good for me?” Octavia asked.
Nodding solemnly, Ignatios replied, “Absolutely. You’ve not only got the background with these people, you also are in desperate need of some ‘foreign field service.’ You’re great with the interior matters, but you’ve got to get some more external experiences under your belt. Being the war committee’s watchdog on this expedition will be excellent.” He gave her a wink. “Perhaps you’ll even be able to make a connection with Emperor Hadrian’s son. He’s a tribune in the XIII Germania. I’m still amazed good ol’ Hadrian didn’t give him a general’s position right off the bat. Or at least a legateship.”
Ignatios smiled at her blank look. “This is exactly what I mean. You’re on the war committee, for Juno’s sake, and you’ve got to learn these things. Book knowledge about the Nortlanders won’t help you understand our own army. A legateship is a hybrid position-half military and half civilian. Less risky than being a tribune, and more rapid advancement to boot. Guess His Highness didn’t want to let the boy have an easy time of things.” His voice was hoarse now, the dry, summery air lacking moisture.
Octavia understood. Make the connection, build it, keep it strong. It could make a difference later. Of course, becoming friends with the heir to the throne does have its benefits, eventually.
She gave a deep curtsey to the elder statesman. Smiling, he bade her rise and dipped his head in acknowledgement. “You didn’t have to do this,” she whispered to him. Her hazel eyes met his brown ones.
He looked surprised, his white eyebrows rising slightly. “It was the right thing to do.”
Senator Ignatios bade farewell and shuffled off toward his offices. A young servant, waiting a respectful distance away, moved to join him, offering his arm. The man still refuses to get one of those motorized chairs. Claims it would ruin his cane skills.
She turned toward her own offices.
Not half a hallway later, Senator Amirus Cralus stopped her. He was one of the main opponents of Senator Ignatios and his policies on the war committee. He had also been the opposing candidate for expedition observer. He sneered at her as he stood in the hallway, like Goliath facing down David. “I hope your expedition goes smoothly, Senatora.” His voice was full of sarcasm. “Of course, you’re so very experienced in this field, so we expect full reports every day.”
Octavia thought of several very rude things to say, but kept her anger in check. Cralus was pressing her buttons.
The large man stood before her, his toga bulging in several places as it struggled to contain his rotund body. His deeply tanned skin and black, slicked-back hair revealed his eastern heritage. Cralus was a fabulously wealthy man whose family had immigrated to the Empire centuries ago from out east somewhere. Their fortunes made, they turned from building wealth to building power. Amirus was the latest in a series of Cralus senators, each one gaining new support and recruits in a bid for the Senate leadership. Or, alternatively, the Laurel Crown, Octavia thought bitterly.
“Before I let you go, one more question: How will you bring all your beauty products with you to Nortland? I hear they only let you take along one trunk.” His mocking voice turned thoughtful. “Maybe you are our real secret weapon. Those barbarians will think you’re one of their Valkyries come to life!”
Octavia’s hands clenched with the fury building inside her. “Well then, it’s a good thing I pack light,” she spat. “Of course, all the makeup in the world wouldn’t be able to fix your complexion, my esteemed comrade.” Head held high, she pushed past the obnoxious man and strode quickly toward the safety of her offices. Several servants and other senators in the hallway snickered at her comment, and at Cralus.
“You’ll regret that, Senatora,” Cralus called after her as she turned the corner. She had to force herself not to run. “Just you wait. You’ll regret having ever insulted me. You’ll regret it!”
Octavia opened her eyes. She was back in her office, thousands of miles away from Rome and many degrees colder. She’d replayed her last conversation with Ignatios and Cralus over and over again since leaving Rome, sensing something out of the ordinary, even for the high standards of Roman political maneuvering.
Could that be connected to this? Surely Ignatios would have blocked Minnicus’s appointment as expedition leader. A thought struck her, and she pulled out a key and unlocked a desk drawer. Taking out a dull brown accordion folder, she cut the red tape wrapping it with her letter opener and fanned the folder open. From one of the file pockets she pulled out several sheets of paper.
The first listed the assets of the 123rd Expeditionary Force in Operation “Northern Gale.” She briefly perused it, noting with interest the similarity between the names of the commanding officers and some of her fellow senators. And they say the selection is impartial, she scoffed. If we had succumbed to that type of political idiocy like in the days of the Republic, I doubt we’d still be around!
Her finger traced the four legions deployed on this expedition, stopping on the XIII Germania. It was the youngest and greenest of the legions present, while also being the strongest in manpower. Yet it had also seen action most recently, and had not had time to dull from garrison and border patrol duties.
Her finger tapped at the small addendum listing special abilities, talents, and tactical skills possessed by the different components. Octavia had heard about some of the fantastic new battlefield strategies that were being experimented with in the Thirteenth, but she knew little else. No officer from the unit had been available to brief the Senate, so she was mostly in the dark. Octavia hated being in the dark. I’ll have to corner that young Tribune Appius and wring him until he spills all his secrets, perhaps over dinner and some wine? she thought whimsically. He was so handsome, and a gentleman too!
Motion in the outer office drew her eye. She hastily shoved the papers back into the file, pulled out a small roll of the red tape, and wrapped the file shut again, before tucking it back into her desk drawer and locking it tight.
A gentle tapping came at the door.