The relief of seeing only a single rider was something like ecstasy, and he could almost smile at how afraid he had been. Ahenobarbus’s talk of oaths had troubled him and he knew the men shared something of the same guilt.

Seneca narrowed his eyes in suspicion as the rider approached the head of the column, looking neither right nor left as he passed the standing ranks. Seneca recognized the silver armor of one of Caesar’s generals and on the heels of that came a fear that they were being surrounded once again. Anything was possible from those who had spun a wheel around them and made them look like children.

He was not the only one to have the thought. Half the men in the column jerked their heads nervously, looking for the telltale dust that would reveal the presence of a larger force. The ground was dry in the summer’s heat and even a few riders should have given themselves away. They saw nothing, but dared not cease their searching after the harsh lesson they had been taught outside Corfinium.

“Ahenobarbus! Where are you?” Brutus called as he reined in, his dark eyes examining Seneca for a moment and moving on, dismissing him from notice.

Seneca colored and cleared his throat. He did remember this one, from the negotiations in Caesar’s tent. The mocking smile was always his first expression and the eyes had seen more war and death than Seneca could imagine. On the high-stepping Spanish gelding, he was a forbidding figure and Seneca found his mouth was dry from fear.

“Ahenobarbus! Show yourself,” Brutus shouted, his impatience growing.

“He is not here,” Seneca replied.

The general’s head snapped round at his words and he wheeled his horse with obvious skill. Seneca felt a little more of his confidence drain away under the man’s stare. He felt as if he was being judged and found wanting, but the initiative seemed to have been lost from the moment they sighted the rider.

“I do not remember your face,” Brutus told him, loud enough for them all to hear. “Who are you?”

“Livinius Seneca. I do not—”

“What rank do you hold to lead these men?”

Seneca glared. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a few of the guards turn their heads to hear his answer. Against his will, he flushed again. “Pompey will decide how to reward my loyalty,” he began. “At the moment—”

“At the moment, you may be a few hours ahead of Caesar’s legions once he discovers you have left the barracks,” Brutus snapped. “I assume command of these cohorts by right of my rank as general of Rome. Now, where are you heading?”