“If I can drag you away from your trough, gentlemen,” Julius said, tapping the table for attention, “the scouts are in and there is news.” He put a hand over his mouth to belch and smiled, remembering the long, hard march to take the city. The gods were smiling on his venture and though he warned himself against overconfidence, the latest reports confirmed what he had come to believe. He had their attention.

“Pompey’s army has not left Dyrrhachium. He has continued with his line of forts and walls, now that we have shown the need for them.”

Octavian slapped Domitius on the back at this and Julius smiled at their enthusiasm.

“We have only one man in the city itself and Caecilius has not been able to reach us. The scouting reports are all we have. It may be that Pompey intends to ring the city with a line of solid forts before he takes the field once more. Or perhaps he has lost his taste for war completely. He is not the man he once was. When I think of how he fought Spartacus, the change is extraordinary.”

“He’s grown old,” Regulus said.

Julius exchanged a glance with him, knowing that Regulus knew Pompey as well as any of them. “He’s not yet sixty, though I cannot think of any other reason for him to play such a defensive role. He has twice the men at my command, yet they sit around Dyrrhachium and do nothing but build walls to keep us out.”

“Perhaps he’s terrified of us,” Octavian said, between mouthfuls of salted beef. “We’ve given him cause after leading him around Greece by the nose. The Senate have their wives and daughters back by your generosity and they must know we could have burnt Dyrrhachium.”

Julius nodded, thinking. “I had hoped some of his legions would have joined us by now. I have done everything but ride to ask them personally, yet still there are only a few who dare to defy Pompey and the Senate. The scouts report more than eighty heads adorning his new walls, honorable men who answered our call and were caught. Fewer still have made it to our camps.”

“It will not help him,” Domitius said. “The more he kills for desertion, the more will lose respect for him. We gave them Dyrrhachium without hurting a hair of the citizens’ heads. Killing his own men must aid our cause.”