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Lucius said quietly.
    “For Rome,” Primus Vitus said.
    Lucius slowly descended the misshapen stairs. He contemplated how the other legionnaires would take the order to ration food. Then he worked his way around the blocks of stone to the north side where a tent was erected near the ruins. Anok Sabé was in the shade of the shelter. The Egyptian was still, except for when he drew a ragged breath. His skin was filthy and his eyes stared out into nothingness. The legionnaire leaned over the slave and patted him on the face with his open palm. “Wake up, Egyptian mongrel.”
                  Anok did not respond or flinch. He just kept staring into the hot sands. Lucius slapped him harder. He still did not react to the pain.
    “Damn, he stinks,” Augustinus said from behind his comrade. Lucius jumped in surprise.
                  “Dammit, announce your presence before startling me like that, Augustinus,” Lucius grumbled. “This place is haunting enough without you creeping like some Greek, prowling the groves for boys.”
                  “Damn Greeks,” Augustinus chortled. “The camels are loaded and the slaves ready for the march back to the village and the well. Truth be told, it is a relief not to camp here. ”
    “I have other bad news to share, but let us head back. At least we won’t run out of water, unless Jupiter toys with us, or allows the savage gods of these primitives to curse us,” Lucius said cynically.
    “What other bad news?” Augustinus asked.
     
    Lucius looked at a list of supplies, and then decreased the flour ration by a third, along with several ampules of wine and olive oil. The other soldiers grumbled at the news that their food was to be cut by a third, but they complied with a minimum of complaints. Martinus Marius had suggested eating a slave, but Augustinus took great offense at the suggestion of cannibalism due to tightened rations. Lucius was not sure if the other legionnaire jested about the consumption of human flesh.
    The matter was dropped promptly when Augustinus voiced his displeasure at such dark humor.
    The evening meal came and went, and stomachs were not satisfied with the new portions. The Romans were quiet. A hot breeze blew in from the south to sour already frayed nerves. The fine grit invaded everything, adding to the frustrations. Water was that evening’s drink of choice. Though an ampule of wine could have been spared, Lucius feared what the drink might bring about in the already-angry legionnaires. It was best if they all stayed sober, and give the news of shrunken rations a day to set in before they imbibed intoxicating libations.
    Several of the Romans protested about hunger after cena. Lucius reminded them of the duty ahead and that they should look forward to the supplies being marched to them. He finished a hard cyllestis, the bread crunchy and a bit gritty. The sun set, fiery golden orange hues were cast across the sands, a harbinger of a cool night to come. The Prior waited for his comrades to bed down for the night so he would not have to listen to further protestations about rations.
    A tiny sliver of the moon cast long, faint shadows: the hue of the sands a dark-brown as far as Lucius’ eye could see. He stirred a tiny fire, then watched light of the flames flicker against the ruins of the Egyptian walls. After quiet meditations while he stared into the embers, he retreated to his tent where several of the soldiers snored. The scutum seemed particularly hard tonight as he listened to the others breathe. He rolled back and forth and tried to find a comfortable position. “Not the best of days,” Augustinus whispered. “The men handled the news of rationing better than hoped.”
    “Not as well as they could have,” Lucius said. “Any talk of cannibalism unsettles me immensely.”
    Augustinus laughed quietly, then rolled over and shortly began to snore. Lucius finally descended into a fitful sleep, dreaming of