Ahenobarbus saw the dark stain of the enemy across the land, and his heart began to race in anticipation. Seneca had the horns sound a warning note and the blare stiffened the backs of his soldiers, tightening their nerves. Almost unconsciously, the pace of the march increased.

“Form square!” Seneca roared along the ranks, and the column dissolved as the centuries moved apart.

It was not a parade maneuver, but the formation appeared out of the lines like the head of a hammer, with the handle trailing behind along the wide road. Gradually, the tail dwindled in length until they were going forward in one solid mass. Their spears were gripped in sweating palms as they readied themselves for battle, and Ahenobarbus could hear the muttered prayers of the men around him as they gave up their souls and pressed on. He thanked his gods to have been given such a moment as they crossed into the wheat and trampled it before them. He could not turn his head away from the shining metal of the Gaul legion. These men threatened his city and he watched them approach in fascination and swelling fear. He heard their own horns whine across the fields and saw the swift response as the lines blurred into smaller units, sliding inexorably toward him.

“Be ready,” he called across the heads of his countrymen, blinking sweat from his eyes. Then the stillness of the day snapped as the Tenth legion roared and broke into a run.

Julius advanced with the others, keeping a tight rein so as not to go beyond his loping men. He watched the distance shrink as both sides accelerated, and tasted the dust of the fields in his mouth. The Tenth had not unwrapped their spears and he hoped they understood the plans he had made. They raced across the open ground toward the road guards in their formations, and after their first shout they were grim and terrifyingly silent.

Julius counted the paces between the two armies, gauging the range. He doubted Ahenobarbus could launch spears in full waves from such a motley gang, but he would have to risk the lives of his Tenth to get close enough.

At the last moment, he called the halt and the Tenth crashed to a stop. Julius ignored the enemy as they lumbered toward him. There were fifty paces to go before they were in range for spears, but he searched beyond them in the distance, looking for the rising dust that would show him his veteran legions marching around. With the tramp of the road guards in his ears, Julius rose up in the saddle, balancing on one knee.

“There they are!” he called, exulting.