Whoever commanded the five thousand men clearly rejected the opportunity to have them destroyed by such an overwhelming force. Even as Julius watched, the heavy column changed direction and headed north. Julius laughed aloud at the thought of the consternation in those ranks. They had not expected him and now it was too late. He slapped his horse’s neck in excitement, looking around at a country he had not seen for decades.

The land was bare in winter, with twisted trees bereft of their foliage and thin grass clinging to the soil. The stony earth was a dry dust that he remembered from fighting Mithridates many years before. Even the air smelled subtly different to Rome or Gaul. This was a hard land, where life had to be brought carefully into being. It was a good place to go to war. As he cast his eyes along the colorful lines of his legions, Julius thought of Alexander before him and straightened in the saddle.

His gelding was skittish as he rode along the silent ranks. One by one, he greeted his generals. Some, like Octavian, Domitius, Ciro, and Regulus, he had known for years. Others had proved themselves in Gaul and been promoted after Brutus’s betrayal. They were good men and he felt his confidence soar. It seemed a dream to be actually on Greek soil, with the land opening up before them. He was back in his most natural element and all the stifling subterfuge of political Rome could be left behind. Flags snapped and fluttered in a winter breeze that could not cool the pleasure he felt to be at last in reach of his enemy. Pompey had almost twice as many men under his command, with the advantage of fighting on land they knew and had prepared. Let them come, Julius thought. Let them try us.

Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

Pompey paced the central length of the temple he had made his headquarters, his hands clasped tightly at his back. All other sound had ceased and his iron-shod sandals threw back a perfect single echo from the walls, as if his footsteps were stalked by an unseen enemy.

“So he is among us,” he said. “Despite the vaunted promises of my captains, he slips through them and takes Oricum from my control. He strikes at the heart of the coast and meets nothing more than a token resistance! Tell me again how this is possible!”

His last steps brought him face to face with Labienus, who stood at the entrance to the temple. His expression was as hard to read as ever, but he sought to soothe his commander’s anger.

“There were good reasons not to expect him to cross in winter, sir. He gained the length of darkness he needed to avoid the fleet, but the ground is barren.”

Pompey gestured for him to continue, a spark of interest showing in his eyes.