Chapters (47)
- Cover Page
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Acknowledgments
- Part One
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Part Two
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Part Three
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Historical Note
- About the Author
- Also by Conn Iggulden
- Copyright Page
He saw that two of them held shields ready for the third and knew he was looking at the man who had beaten Gaul and now threatened their own city. The rider wore no helmet and simple armor with a dark red cloak that was crumpled under him, spilling down his mount’s flank. In a crowd, Ahenobarbus might not have noticed him, but after the maneuvers that had broken his guards without a single spear or sword thrust, the man seemed like some creature from the dark river, come to taunt him. It was easy enough to imagine the Roman blood that would stain his cloak.
Ahenobarbus stood straighter. “When he comes close, lads, we rush him on my order. Pass the word. We might not be able to beat these bastards, but if we can kill the general, we haven’t been wasted.”
Seneca stared at him and Ahenobarbus held his eyes long enough to force him to look away. The young man still thought this was some elaborate tactical game, with Rome open behind them. Some of them knew better and Ahenobarbus saw nods of assent spread out from him. Sometimes a man could forget that his life was not the most important thing in the world, that there really were things worth dying for. In the chaos and fear, Ahenobarbus had been almost resigned to surrender, before the truth came back to him. This was an enemy, Roman or not.
Seneca came close, so as not to be overheard by the men. “Sir, we cannot attack now. We must surrender,” the young man said into his ear.
Ahenobarbus glanced at him and noted the fear. “Go back, lad, and let them see you stand. When he comes close enough, we’ll cut him down.”
Seneca opened his mouth, unable to understand the dark ferocity he saw in his commander. It had never been there before and it shocked him into silence as he moved away.
Ahenobarbus chuckled to himself. He looked at the grim legions facing him. They too had halted after their display and, grudgingly, he admitted their superiority. It had been impressive enough to see the way they dismantled his rough formations. The horsemen looked eager to be sent in and the sight of those cold killers sent a shiver through his frame. On the backs of their mounts, the riders seemed enormous and Ahenobarbus knew their reputation as well as anyone else who had read the reports from Gaul. It gave the enemy a glamour he could not deny and it was hard to think of those veterans charging in amongst his inexperienced soldiers.
“Who has led you here? Let that man step forward!” a voice carried over the field.
Faces turned to Ahenobarbus and he smiled mirthlessly as he made his way through the ranks to the front. The sun shone and his vision seemed unnaturally clear, as if the edges of things had sharpened.