Six of the eight legates were already there, and as the last two entered, Julius sat with his hands on his lap and waited. The last to enter was Lepidus, who had accepted the body of Mithridates from him in Greece. It felt like a lifetime ago, but the man still had the same bland, unconcerned expression as he nodded to Julius vaguely and began to clean the nails of one hand with the other.

Pompey leaned forward, the back legs of his chair leaving the floor.

“From this point on, gentlemen, I will expect to see you every night after the sentries are posted. Rather than have a vulnerable line of four camps, I have given orders for only two, with four legions in each. You should be close enough to reach the command position two hours before each midnight.”

There was a murmur of interest from the legates as they digested this. Pompey continued over it.

“The latest reports suggest the slave army is heading north as fast as they can. Crassus and I believe there is a danger they will reach the Alps mountains and Gaul. If we cannot catch them before then, they will disappear. Gaul is vast and we have little influence there. They must not be allowed to win free, or next year will see another rebellion of every slave still on Roman lands. The destruction and loss of life would be huge.”

He paused for comment, but the assembled generals were silent, watching him. One or two glanced at Crassus, clearly wondering about the Senate command, but Pompey’s companion was sitting relaxed in his chair, nodding as Pompey rattled through the points.

“Your orders are to march west along the plains road until I give the signal to cut north. It’s a longer route overall, but we’ll make better speed on the road than across country. I want thirty miles a day, then twenty, then another thirty.”

“For how long?” Lepidus interrupted.

Pompey froze and let the silence show his irritation.

“Our best estimates are for five hundred miles west and then some distance north that we cannot gauge without knowing the exact whereabouts of the enemy. It depends, of course, on how close to the mountains they get. I expect—”

“It can’t be done,” Lepidus said flatly.

Pompey paused again, then stood to look down on the general.

“I am telling you what will happen, Lepidus. If your legion cannot match the pace of the others under my command, then I will remove your rank and give it to someone who can make them march.”