After a while, he stood to pace and barely noticed as one of the torches guttered and failed. He took another from its stand and held it to illuminate a map that covered the entire wall of the tent. Spots of dark moisture showed on the parchment, and he realized he’d have to take it down if the rain continued. Rome was a tiny circle on the thick skin, and somewhere to the south the slaves were moving ever onward to the sea. He stared at the symbol for the city, knowing he had to make a decision before Crassus arrived.

Around him, only the sentries moved around the silent camp in damp misery. The Senate had sent supplies out to them as soon as the army of Spartacus had marched south. Pompey could only imagine the fear in the streets as the sea of slaves passed them by, but the gates had been barred against them.

He was proud of his people when he’d heard: the old and the young, women and loyal slaves ready to fight. Even the Senate had armed themselves, as they had centuries before to defend their city with their lives. It gave him hope for them.

A murmur of passwords outside revealed the approach of Crassus, who looked around in surprise at the dark tent as he entered. He wore a heavy leather cloak over his armor and pulled back the hood, scattering droplets.

“Evil night,” he muttered. “What news?”

Pompey stopped and turned toward him. “Some of it is . . . awful,” he replied, “but it must wait. There are four legions at the coast, just landed from Greece. I’m going to meet them and bring them after us.”

Crassus nodded warily. “What else, Pompey? You could send the extraordinarii to them, with our seals on the orders. Why go yourself?”

Pompey grimaced in the shadows. “The man who killed my daughter has been found. The men I left to hunt him are watching him now. I will stop at the city before I meet the legions coming west. You’ll have to go on without me until this is done.”

Crassus took a taper and oil jug from the table and relit the lamps, his hand shaking slightly as he concentrated. At last, he sat down and met Pompey’s eyes.

“If they turn to fight, I will not be able to wait for you,” he said.

Pompey shook his head. “Then do not force them to turn. Give them room to run and in a few days, a week, I will be back with fresh men to end this chase at last. Don’t risk losing everything, my friend. For all your skill in Senate, you are no general. You know it as well as I do.”