“No battle? Why?”
“Because you have a mutiny on your hands, and I’m its instigator.” Sulla drew his sword. “Come in, centuriones!” he called. “It’ll be a bit of a crush, but we’ll all fit.”
None of the original inhabitants of the room said a word, Catulus Caesar because he was too angry, the rest either because they were too relieved – not all the senior staff were happy about the projected battle of the morrow – or too bewildered. Seventy centurions filed through the door and stood densely packed behind and to both sides of Sulla, thus leaving about three feet of vacant space between themselves and Catulus Caesar’s senior staff – who were now all standing, literally, with their backs against the wall.
Oh, my, that’s a lot of centurions in a tent.