The wind battered against them like the pressure of a warning hand as they pushed on. Julius could not speak for the pride he felt. He thought he hardly deserved the simple faith his men placed in his leadership. The responsibility was his alone to see them survive their time in Greece, and he knew what he had been given in their trust.

“Pompey will be in our camp by now,” Octavian said suddenly, looking at the sun as it fought clear of the eastern hills. “He’ll come fast when he sees where we’re going.”

“We’ll run them into the ground,” Julius said, not sure if he believed it.

He had planned and prepared as much as he could before leaving Rome, but the simple fact was that he needed to find food for his men. Caecilius had said Dyrrhachium held the main supply, and Julius would have to push his legions on through exhaustion to reach it. He had other reasons for going to the city, but without food, his campaign would come to a shuddering halt and everything they had fought for would be lost.

He feared the pursuit. Though his men had been well rested as they prepared the feint to the east, they could not march forever in such conditions. No matter what Renius had thought of the spirit of fighting men, the strength of their bodies could take them only so far. Julius glanced behind him out of primitive fear, knowing that if Pompey’s army was sighted, he would have to double the pace. His men would begin to fall without rest and Dyrrhachium was still far to the north.

Every stage of the campaign seemed to have skirted the edge of disaster, he thought privately. Perhaps after seizing the supplies in Dyrrhachium, he would have time to breathe without Pompey’s army nipping at his heels. The only cause for optimism was that his knowledge of Pompey seemed to be giving him an edge in the maneuvers. He had hoped Pompey would not attack while a full legion remained out of sight. Domitius had been ready to take Dyrrhachium alone if necessary, while Julius decoyed his enemy into the east, but Pompey had behaved exactly as he had hoped.

Julius told himself over and over that he had to be cautious, though he had never expected Pompey to abandon Rome. He could not shake the suspicion that the Dictator had lost his taste for war. If that was true, Julius knew he should do everything possible to keep Pompey afraid.

He looked at the sun and gave way to the inevitable.

“Call a halt here and let the men eat and sleep. We will rest for four hours before moving on.”