Seneca lost his temper at last. “You have no right to give orders here!” he shouted. “We know our duty, sir. We will not return to Rome. Ride back to the city, General. I don’t have time to stand here and bicker with you.”

Brutus raised his eyebrows in interest, leaning forward to take a better look. “But I’m not going back to Rome,” he said softly. “I’m taking you to Greece to fight for Pompey.”

“I won’t be tricked by you, General. Not twice. I saw you in Caesar’s tent with Ahenobarbus. Are you telling me you have turned traitor in a day? That’s a lie.”

To Seneca’s horror, the silver-armored general swung a leg over his saddle and vaulted lightly to the ground. He took three paces to stand close enough for Seneca to feel the sun’s heat off his armor, and his eyes were terrible.

“You call me a liar and a traitor and expect to live, Seneca? I am no man’s servant but Rome’s. My sword has killed more men than stand here for the Senate and you dare to use those words to me?”

His hand caressed the hilt of his gladius and Seneca took a step back from his rage.

“I have told you where I’m going,” Brutus continued relentlessly. “I have told you I will fight for Pompey. Don’t question me again, boy. Be warned.” The last words were a harsh whisper, before the light of madness fell from his gaze and his voice changed to a more normal tone. “Tell me where you are heading.”

“The coast,” Seneca said. He could feel a fat line of sweat run down his cheek and did not dare to scratch the itching trail.

Brutus shook his head. “Not with two cohorts. There aren’t fishing boats enough for all of us. We’ll need to head for a port and hope there is a merchant vessel Pompey didn’t manage to burn. Brundisium is two hundred miles south and east from here. It’s large enough.”

“It’s too far,” Seneca said instantly. “If they send the extraordinarii . . .”

“You think you’ll be safer with your back to the sea? Then you’re a fool. We need a ship and there must be some trader still working.”

“But if they send the riders?” Seneca said desperately.

Brutus shrugged. “I trained those men. If Caesar sends the extraordinarii out against us, we’ll gut them.”

As Seneca stared at him, Brutus walked calmly back to his horse and leapt into the saddle. From that lofty position, he looked down at Seneca and waited for further opposition. When none came, he nodded to himself, satisfied.

“Brundisium it is. I hope your lads are fit, Seneca. I want to be in Brundisium in ten days or less.”