The lines dissolved as each man standing apart was surrounded by nine of his friends and brothers. Julius heard one of them muttering an apology before he landed the first blow. It was worse than anything Julius had ever seen. Though the optios had staffs, the common soldiers had only their fists to smash the faces and chests of people they had known for years. Some of them sobbed as they struck, their faces twisted like children, but not a single one of them refused.

It took a long time. Some of the battered soldiers died quickly, their throats crushed, but others lingered on and on, shuddering and screaming in a terrible chorus that made Brutus shiver as he watched, transfixed by the knots of bloody-handed men, kicking and punching savagely. Brutus shook his head in disbelief, then looked away, sickened. He saw Renius was standing rigidly, his face pale.

“I never thought I would see this again,” Renius muttered to himself. “I thought it had died out long ago.”

“It had,” Julius replied flatly. “Looks like Pompey’s revived it.”

Ciro watched in horror, his shoulders sagging. He looked at Julius questioningly, but there were no words for him.

Julius watched as the last blows were struck and the centurions checked each corpse. The men stood back, their energy disappearing as they shambled into ranks. The bodies sprawled before them in circles of bloody grass, and many of the living bore the spatters of the executions, standing with their heads bowed in misery.

“If we were in Rome, I would order you disbanded and forbidden to bear arms,” Pompey roared into the silence. “As it is, circumstances may save you yet.” He glanced at Crassus and the senator shifted in his saddle. Julius frowned suddenly. For Pompey to give way to Crassus meant that he needed the weight of the Senate authority behind whatever was going to be said. For all their maneuvering, only Crassus had that. The older man cleared his throat to speak.

“It is my order that a new legion be formed, to expunge the stain of Lepidus. You will join with Primigenia and make a new history. Your standards will be changed. You will have a new name, untouched by shame. I appoint Gaius Julius Caesar to command you. I speak with the authority of the Senate.”

Crassus wheeled his horse and trotted over to where Julius stood, glaring at him.

“Will they be Primigenia, then?” Julius asked harshly.

Crassus shook his head. “I know what it will do to you, Julius, but this is the better way. If they take arms for you, they will always be apart as they are now. A new name will clear the field for them . . . and for you. Pompey and I have agreed. Obey your orders. Primigenia ends today.”