Aulus felt he should get his sentiments on the matter out in the open.“Titus, while I appreciate your rank as a Praetorian, and respect your abilities on the field. I think it best if we work by the rules.”

Of all the responses Labienus had anticipated, this wasn’t one of them. He cocked an eyebrow. “Please elucidate.”

“Well, one never speaks of these things, but they did happen. You switched over to Pompey’s side in the schism. Whatever position he gave you doesn’t apply here. Nor does your rank before your defection still hold.” Hirtius knew this would probably rub the man the wrong way. But maybe bygones would be bygones. After all, Caesar was trying to let things settle into normalcy. Aulus thought the best way to insure that was to obey the letters of the laws. He decided in that spirit to offer an out for Titus. “If you want some kind of increase in your status, I have no problem with your requesting it of the Senate or Caesar. I am in no urge to be sole command out here.”

Labienus listened to the speech with a mixture of chagrin and humor. He walked over to the small side table poured a goblet of un-watered wine, snatched a few olives and sat on a couch with crossed legs, distinctly avoiding the client’s chair. Aulus continued, “I don’t know that we really need more legions out here anyway. Perhaps together we can write Rome asking for instructions.”

Titus smiled broadly, demonstrating that he had healthy teeth, not rotted from bad living, or excessive wine bibbing. He popped an olive in his mouth and chuckled while he chewed, though neither the sound nor his smile matched the dark eyes.

"Come come Aulus. I find your reference to rules along with the actions of Ceasar to be a bit humorous under the circumstances. My leaving Julius Ceasar in light of his crossing the Rubicon can hardly be called a defection. Pompey was on legal terms with the legal Senate, and my pro-Praetorian status comes from the Senate, as a commander in the field has the right to request his legates. Just as Ceasar requested me, and Pompeius Magnus later. I stayed behind in Spain as ordered after the agreement between our titans and Senate, and the panicked departure of the Beloved Republican Marcus Porcius Cato."

Labienus made a raspberry on mentioning Cato.

"I was left with the worst legion, to be pounced on by rebellious tribes while trying to do my job. At no point have I received an order from the Senate or Consul and been informed of a change of status, so here I sit, following the rules. Doing what I should be doing, which is seeking out orders and co-ordinating with the new governor. I thought I would be most useful as your senior legate."

Hirtius was ensconced in some sort of writing already. His desk was a mess. "I see you are still ever the administrator with endless papers on your desk," quiped Labienus after another olive was popped in the mouth with good teeth. "What are you working on?"

"Remember the General’s commentaries?"

"Of course."

"I’m writing a final book about the little situation afterwards, and a few other things. Maybe the African campaign, too."

Titus chuckled again, and this time it reached his eyes. "Fancy yourself a Publius Rutilius Rufus? Or just trying to get in on some general character assassination and ego plumping like that fart Varrus did for Magnus?"

Titus was probably becoming bored, if he was making wise cracks. So Aulus asked. "Well, shall we write Rome?"

"We can, though it is in your prerogative as Governor to have me as your Senior Legate. And to use your war chest as you see fit to secure the province and send back booty. We went down rather badly in that little rebellion, and I think we are duty bound to return the favor. Nor do I think it was a unique occurence. If we move quickly, we can role right out of one conflict and grab the northern arena. Now you always were good at the finances and the documentation...."

Labienus went on in a deluge of verbiage he rarely indulged in, far more interested in doing than writing. Not that he was unschooled, but because he believed, like most Romans, that what you did in life echoed an eternity, and the writing took time away from doing.