The silence of the night was broken as the soldiers around him woke and began to wash and dress. The temporary barracks had been sited near a stream that had its beginning above the snowline of distant mountains, and Brutus could hear the men swear at the cold as they bathed. He reached under the cloth at his groin and scratched himself idly. There was a bathing room nearby, with a fire to heat buckets of water, but it had become a point of pride for the men that their officers dared the icy river with them. He smiled at the thought of the transformation he had wrought in the road guards. Even Labienus had complimented him in his stiff way. Seneca’s cohorts would hardly recognize the untrained soldiers they had been, after the months of drill and maneuvers. Brutus had undertaken their instruction with deliberate thoroughness, knowing that only their skill would keep him alive when Julius came to Greece.

He left his set of silver armor in the room, preferring a simple set of leather and iron with long woolen bracae to protect his legs from the cold. A call brought a slave to carry them and Brutus went out into the pale morning sun.

The city of Dyrrhachium was wreathed in mist in the distance, with the gray sea shining at its westernmost point. Brutus tilted his head in ironic appreciation of Labienus, somewhere within that place. He did not doubt that his orders to train away from the city came from the subtlety of the general, solving his problem by removing the man who caused them.

As he strolled to the river’s edge, Brutus saw Seneca had risen before him and was standing naked on the bank, rubbing himself vigorously to revive his frozen flesh. The young officer grinned at Brutus, but then both men became still as they sighted movement near the city and peered into the distance.

“Now who could be joining us out here?” Brutus said to himself. The smudge of moving men was too far away to see details, and Brutus resigned himself to a quick plunge and scrub so as to be ready to receive them.

Seneca was already pulling on his clothing and tying laces and straps that gleamed with oil. As Brutus waded gasping into the water, the alarm was being given around the camp and the wooden buildings clattered with the noise of men gathering weapons.

Brutus bore the cold in tense silence as he ducked under the surface, though it numbed him in moments. He panted sharply as he came out and accepted a blanket to towel himself dry.