The sinews on his hands stood out like wires as he gripped the rostrum and faced the Senate. The meeting hall was packed and many were on their feet to speak. It was chaotic without the ordered traditions of Curia debates. Pompey had already been interrupted twice and a vein throbbed visibly in his temple as he considered stalking out and leaving them. He would have done so if he had had even a month in hand before his Dictatorship was to be renewed. They knew the leverage they had and seemed determined to extract its value.

Cicero dropped his gaze to scan a parchment in his hand. Pompey would have given a great deal to know its author. As Cicero looked up again, the rest fell silent with a discipline they had not shown to Pompey.

“Your health is at issue when illness prevents you from acting in the best interests of Rome,” Cicero said, glancing infuriatingly at the parchment once more. “You should stand down until you are well, Pompey. If it was another man, you would be among the first to say it.”

Pompey glared at him, feeling the gaze of them all batter at his defenses. The pain in his gut was a wild red thing and it took every grain of his strength not to let it show.

“You were not so insolent when Rome was burning and I was granted my Dictatorship,” Pompey said. “I kept order then, when no one else could. I broke Spartacus when his army threatened us all; do you remember that? And you dare to suggest I am not fit for my command? Why don’t you read that paper in your hand, Cicero, instead of hinting at its contents? I fear no criticism from you or any man. My record speaks for me.”

There was a murmur of approval from the benches and Pompey was pleased to see Cicero did not have the complete support of the others in the hall. Many of them would be horrified at an attempt to end the Dictatorship on such grounds. If they had been in Rome, it could not have been contemplated, but Pompey knew the campaign had not been going well. There were too many in the Senate who understood nothing of war and were suffering without the comfort and respect they enjoyed in their own city. He knew he had to find words to move them.

“Your record is without equal,” Cicero said, “but you are sweating now, Pompey, because you are in agony. Stand down for a month and we will have the best healers brought to you. When you are well, you will resume the war.”

“And if I do not? Speak your threats aloud, Cicero, so that we can all hear. Let us know what treason you are considering,” Pompey said harshly, leaning forward on the rostrum. More murmurs met his words and he saw Cicero look uncomfortable.