Marius now continued the route, which he had commenced, toward his winter quarters, which, for the convenience of getting provisions, he had determined to fix in the towns on the coast. He was not, however, rendered careless or presumptuous by his victory, but marched with his army in form of a square,1
just as if he were in sight of the enemy. Sylla, with his cavalry, was on the right; Aulus Manlius, with the slingers and archers, and Ligurian cohorts, had the command on the left; the tribunes, with the light-armed infantry, the consul had placed in the front and rear. The deserters, whose lives were of little value, and who were well acquainted with the country, observed the route of the enemy. Marius himself, too, as if no other were placed in charge, attended to every thing, went through the whole of the troops, and praised or blamed them according to their desert. He was always armed and on the alert, and obliged his men to imitate his example. He fortified his camp with the same caution with which he marched; stationing cohorts of the legions to watch the gates, and the auxiliary cavalry in front, and others upon the rampart and lines. He went round the posts in person, not from suspicion that his orders would not be observed, but that the labor of the soldiers, shared equally by their general, might be endured by them with cheerfulness.2
Indeed, Marius, as well at this as at other periods of the war, kept his men to their duty rather by the dread of shame3
than of severity; a course which many said was adopted from desire of popularity, but some thought it was because he took pleasure in toils to which he had been accustomed from his youth, and in exertions which other men call perfect miseries. The public interest, however, was served with as much efficiency and honor as it could have been under the most rigorous command.