Dim shapes appeared around him as his thirty galleys were lit by the dawn. The decks were busy with activity as they prepared and Julius could feel his heart beat more strongly, almost painfully, as he waited for the word that Greece could be seen.

Three of Pompey’s galleys were visible now, the nearest close enough to see the flecks of white at its sides as the oarsmen churned the water.

“Land!” came the cry and Julius let out a roar of excitement, raising his fist to the sky.

His soldiers released the tension in a great cheer that echoed over the water as they saw the brown stain across their path that meant they would not be caught alone in the ocean.

The drums that had been silent all night came suddenly to life, setting an even faster, man-killing pace. Hearts would burst as they crossed the last length to land, but the drums pounded on at the charge and the galleys soared in together.

Julius could see the houses of a waking town and like the buzzing of an insect he heard alarm horns summon the soldiers of Greece to defend the inhabitants. Was it Oricum? He thought it was, though it had been almost twenty years since he last took ship from that port.

The sound of the drums fired his blood even higher as he watched the port come closer. Three galleys were in the dock there and even as Julius watched, they came alive with running, shouting men. He grinned at the thought of their fear. Let him just touch land and he would show them that Rome could still produce a general.

Brutus rose from the hard sleeping mat in his quarters and began the series of exercises with which he greeted every new dawn. Renius had set the original form, but Cabera’s influence had altered the routine, so that now there were as many moves to increase suppleness as to maintain strength. After half an hour, his body was gleaming with sweat and the sun had risen above the distant city of Dyrrhachium. He took a sword and began the routines he had learned with Julius decades before, the simpler forms growing into more complex strikes, almost as a dance. The routine was so much a part of him as to leave his mind completely free, and he used the time to consider his position in Pompey’s forces.

It had become a dangerous game with Labienus after the first evasion of his guards. The Greek general was still suspicious and Brutus knew he was spied upon at all times. He thought he could have slipped away from their sight with enough effort, but that would only have added to Labienus’s mistrust. Instead, Brutus had confounded the man by complaining directly, dragging one of the watchers into Labienus’s presence.