He grimaced silently in the shadows. Or they might not, putting Gaditicus in charge and reducing Julius back to commanding only twenty of them. The Senate were not the sort to recognize the unusual authority he possessed over the motley group, though his new wealth could give him influence if he used it wisely. He wondered if he could be satisfied with such a position and smiled to himself, unnoticed by the men watching Gaditicus. There was a simple answer. He’d learned there was nothing finer than leading and nothing more of a challenge than having no one to ask for help. At the worst times, they had looked to him to know the way forward, to see the next step. The gods knew it was far easier to follow, without thought, but not half so satisfying. Part of him longed for the security, the simple pleasure in being part of a unit. But in his heart he wanted the heady mixture of fear and danger that came only with command.

How could Sulla be dead? The thought returned again and again to nag at him. The wounded man on board Celsus’s ship had known nothing of it, just that the soldiers had been told to wear black for a whole year. When the man had fallen unconscious, Julius had left him in Cabera’s hands, and as the sun sank, the man died, his heart failing at last. Julius had ordered him buried with the other Roman corpses, and it shamed him when he thought he had never even asked the man’s name.

“Julius? Do you want to speak to them?” Gaditicus said, breaking into his thoughts and making him jump. Guiltily, he realized he hadn’t heard anything the older officer had said. He stood slowly, marshaling his thoughts.

“I know most of you hoped to see Rome, and you will. My city is a strange place: marble and dreams, borne up with the strength of the legions. Every legionary is bound by oath to protect our people anywhere you find them. All a Roman has to do is say ‘I am a Roman citizen’ and be guaranteed our shelter and authority.” He paused and every eye in the storehouse was on him.

“But you have not taken that oath and I cannot compel you to fight for a city you have never seen. You have more wealth than most soldiers would see in ten years. You must make a free choice—to serve under oath, or to leave. If you leave us, you will go as friends. We have fought together and some have not made it this far. For others of you, it may be far enough. If you stay, I will give Celsus’s treasure into the care of Captain Durus, who will meet us on the west coast when Mithridates is beaten.”

Another low rumble of voices filled the room as he paused again.