‘If you stop now, Julius, we are all dead men. Pompey won’t forget we threatened the city. You know it. He’d follow us back to Britain if he had to.’ He looked into Julius’ eyes and, for a moment, his voice shook. ‘Now don’t you let me down. I’ve come this far with you. We have to see it through.’
Julius returned the pleading gaze in silence before placing his hand on Brutus’ shoulder. ‘I am home, Brutus. If it sticks in my throat to kill men of my own city, would you begrudge me my doubts?’
‘What choice do you have?’ Brutus replied.
Julius began to pace up and down amongst the crushed wheat. ‘If I take power …’ He froze for a moment as the idea formed, and spoke faster. ‘What if I declare Pompey’s dictatorship to be illegal? I could enter Rome to restore the Republic then. That is how they must see me. Adàn! Where are you?’ he called across the field. His Spanish scribe came at the run. ‘Here is your answer, Brutus,’ Julius said, his eyes gleaming. ‘Adàn? I want a letter sent to every Roman commander. It is ten years since I was consul; there is no bar against me standing once more. Tell them … I reject the dictatorship that Pompey will not end.’
Julius watched impatiently as Adàn fussed with his writing tablets.
‘Let them know I will respect the courts and the senate building, that Pompey alone is my enemy. Tell them that I will welcome any man who wishes to join me as we bring back the Republic of Marius and the security of the past. I carry the gold of Gaul with me and Rome will be reborn with what I have won for her.
‘Tell them all that, Adàn. Let them know that I will not take Roman lives unless I am forced, that I will honour the traditions as Pompey has not. He is the one who had the senate house burnt on his watch. The gods have already shown their dislike of him.’
The men around him watched bemused as Julius laughed aloud. He shook his head at their expressions.
‘They will want to believe in me, gentlemen. They will hesitate and wonder if I am a champion of the old liberties.’
‘And will it be true?’ Adàn asked softly.
Julius glanced sharply at him. ‘If I make it so. My first act will be in Corfinium. If they will surrender to me, I will spare them all, if only to have them spread the word.’
His humour was infectious and Adàn smiled as he scribbled in the soft wax, ignoring the inner voice that mocked how easily he fell under the man’s charm.
‘They won’t surrender,’ Domitius said. ‘Pompey would have them killed as traitors. You saw what he did to the Tenth for turning.’
Julius frowned. ‘He may, though if he does, he will be helping me. Who would you follow, Domi? A man who stands for law and consul, who frees good Romans, or one who has them killed? Who is the better man to lead Rome?’
Domitius nodded slowly and Julius smiled.
‘You see? It will be hard for them to condemn me if I am merciful. It will confound them, Domi. Pompey will not know how to react.’
Julius turned to Brutus, his face alight with the old energy.
‘But first we must take the road guards and do it without bloodshed. They must be reduced to a level of panic so total that they will not have the chance to fight. Who leads them?’
Brutus frowned, still reeling from the sudden change in Julius’ mood. The march south had been overshadowed by doubt and gloom, but in a moment Julius was as he had been in Gaul. It was frightening.
‘The scouts saw no legion flags,’ he said stiffly. ‘Whoever it is will be a ranking officer.’
‘Let us hope he is still ambitious,’ Julius replied. ‘It will be easier if we can tempt his guards from the town. I’ll draw him out with the Tenth and see if he comes. If we can catch them in the fields, they’re ours.’
All around them, those who could hear were getting to their feet, gathering their kit and readying themselves to move. An air of long-familiar tension stole over them all as they prepared themselves to go back to danger and hardship.
‘I will take the Tenth closer to the town, Brutus. You have overall command of the others. We will spin these lads until they’re blind and useless. Send your scouts out and this time let them be seen.’
‘I’d rather be the bait,’ Brutus said.
Julius blinked for a moment, then shook his head. ‘Not this time. The extraordinarii will be the links between us. I’ll need you back here fast enough if we are attacked.’
‘What if they sit tight?’ Domitius asked, glancing at Brutus’ strained expression.
Julius shrugged. ‘Then we surround them and offer terms. One way or another, I am beginning my run for consul and Rome. Spread the word amongst the men. These are our people, gentlemen. They will be treated with respect.’
Ahenobarbus read his orders again. No matter how often he went over the few words from Pompey, nothing appeared that might allow him to attack the rogue legions from Gaul. Yet the reports from his scouts gave him a chance to finally make his name and he was cruelly caught between obedience and a rush of excitement he hadn’t felt for years. Pompey would surely forgive him anything if he was able to bring the traitor back to the city in chains.
The men who had been taken from every road post, toll-house and fort were gathered under the shadow of Corfinium’s walls, waiting for the order to march home. There was no tension amongst their ranks. The scouts had not yet managed to leak their news to the rest of them, though it could not be much longer before they all knew the enemy was closer than anyone had guessed.
Ahenobarbus rubbed his fingers along his bony jaw, easing his thumbs into the creases at the corners of his eyes to relieve the pressure. His guards outnumbered those his scouts had spotted, but the reports had mentioned four legions coming south and the others must surely be close by. At the very worst, it could be an ambush for his men.
Watching them as they formed up did not give him confidence. Many had never seen a more challenging contest than a few drunken farmers. Years of peace while Caesar conquered Gaul had not created the sort of force Ahenobarbus would have chosen for his chance at glory, but sometimes you had to work with what the gods gave you.
For a moment, he was tempted to forget what he had been told and tread the safe path as he had for most of his twenty years as a soldier. He could march out and be in Rome in only three days, leaving his last chance behind him. It was hard to imagine the sneers of younger officers when they heard he had walked away from a force half his size. The other Gaul legions could be miles away and he had sworn an oath to protect his city. Running back to the gates at the first sign of an enemy was not what he had imagined when he joined the army.
‘Six thousand men,’ he whispered to himself, looking back at the lines of soldiers waiting to march. ‘My legion, at last.’
He had not mentioned
