With the lines of soldiers watching, it had to be perfect, but he did not make a mistake. As the spear left his hand, he knew it would strike. The eyes of professional men followed the path of the spear and there were many who knew it was good before the straw figure jerked, twisting around with the impact. They cheered and Pompey raised his hand in salute, breathing hard. His face was pouring with sweat and his right shoulder ached terribly, answered by a blooming spot of pain in his gut. He had felt muscles tear as he released, but that did not matter. Romans respected strength and the demonstration would give them pride in their commander.

Pompey turned and rode along the line of men, noting their fierce faces and discipline. Only their commanding officer, Labienus, met his eyes and saluted as Pompey reined in.

“I am pleased with them, Labienus,” Pompey said, loud enough for the legionaries to hear. “Dismiss them to eat, but not too much on each plate. I want them lean and hungry.” His voice dropped to a more conversational tone. “Accompany me to the temple, General. There is much still to discuss.”

“Yes, sir,” Labienus replied. His sharp eyes noted how Pompey favored his right arm, but it would be disrespectful to mention it if Pompey chose not to. Labienus was pleased to see no sign of discomfort on Pompey’s flushed face. The Dictator was a hard, proud man and he cut a fine figure on a horse, even at his age. “They are always hungry, sir,” Labienus added. “They will not disappoint you.”

“No, they will not,” Pompey told him grimly. “They will scatter Caesar’s raptores like seeds on the wind.”

Labienus bowed his head in response, his eyes cast down. It was no hardship to show honor to such a man. What he had seen of Pompey had impressed him since his arrival. The Dictator carried his authority with an ease and dignity the men respected. Labienus knew the legionaries were confident and in truth many would welcome the chance to fight against a traitor. Greece had been peaceful for too long for some, especially those who hoped for a bright career. As the lowest spear-carrier knew well, war brought promotion far faster than peace. The very least of them would be hoping to make his name against Caesar, to become a centurion and a respected member of the officer class.