Emperor_ The Field Of Swords Part 28

Julius stared into the flames, gesturing with his cup at the unseen cold outside. "I cannot sit and wait for them to come to me. At any moment, I could be recalled to Rome. Another man could be appointed in my place." He caught himself before continuing, as he noted Mhorbaine's bright interest. For all the man had been a valuable ally, Julius had let the wine spill too many words from him.

The last letter from Cra.s.sus before the winter closed the pa.s.ses over the Alps had been troubling. Pompey was losing control of the city and Julius had been furious at the weakness of the Senate. He almost wished Pompey would declare a Dictators.h.i.+p to end the tyranny of men like Clodius and Milo. They were just names to him, but Cra.s.sus took the threat seriously enough to confide his fear and Julius knew the old man was not one to jump at shadows. At one point, Julius had even considered returning to Rome to bolster Pompey in the Senate, but the winter of Gaul had put an end to that. It was appalling to think that while he won new lands, the city he loved was falling into corruption and violence. He had long accepted that the conquest of a country had to come in blood, but that vision had no place in his own home and the very thought of it made him rage.

"There is so much to do!" he said to Mhorbaine, reaching again for the poker in the flames. "All I can do is torment myself with plans and letters I cannot even send. I thought you said spring would have come by now? Where is the thaw you promised me?"

Mhorbaine shrugged. "Soon," he said, as he had so many times before.

CHAPTER 31.

When spring came, more than seven thousand families choked the roads north of Rome. Out of the teeming streets of the city, the exodus started to claim the new land that Julius promised. Those who feared the strength of Clodius and Milo took to the wide roads to start a new life away from the crime and dirt of the city, selling everything they owned to buy tools and grain and oxen to pull their carts. It was a perilous journey, with more than three hundred miles to the foothills of the Alps and unknown dangers beyond.

The legions Julius had taken from Ariminum had stripped the north of patrolling soldiers, stretching the protection of Rome to breaking point. Though the roadside inns and forts were still manned, long stretches in between were plagued by thieves, and many of the families were attacked and left by the road in despair. Some were picked up by those who took pity on them, while others were left to beg for a few coins or starve. Those who could afford to hire guards were better off, and they kept their heads down when they pa.s.sed the wailing, crying people who had gone before them, standing in the spring rain with hands outstretched.

In special sessions of the Senate, Pompey read out the reports of Julius's victories as he received them. It was a bittersweet role he had found for himself, and he could only shake his head at the irony of supporting Caesar as a way of controlling the new men of the Senate. Cra.s.sus had made him see that the victories in Gaul were all that kept the city from erupting in sheer panic as Clodius and Milo fought for supremacy in their secret, b.l.o.o.d.y battles. Despite the real power they had gained and the influence they wielded as brutally as a club, they had done nothing for Rome but feed on her. Neither Clodius nor Milo ever missed one of the reports. They had been formed in the gutters and the back alleys of the city, but they thrilled to the details of battles in their name like any other citizen.

At first, Pompey had been prepared to declare a Dictators.h.i.+p to control them. Freed from the restraints of the law, he could have had both men executed without a trial. Cra.s.sus had advised against such a final step. If they were killed, Cra.s.sus said, others would take their place, and Pompey, perhaps Rome herself, would not survive. The Hydra of the Roman mob would grow new heads, and whoever replaced them would know better than to walk in the open and attend the Senate. Cra.s.sus had spoken for hours to his old colleague, and Pompey had seen the wisdom of his suggestions. Instead of resistance, he had gone out of his way to flatter and reward the men. He had sponsored Clodius for the position of chief magistrate and thrown a great dinner in his honor. Together, they had chosen candidates for the consular elections, lesser men who would do nothing to alter the fragile state of truce. It was a delicate balance that Pompey had found, knowing Clodius had chosen it in part to aid him against Milo as their own struggle continued.

Pompey considered the men as he read the latest report on the rostrum in front of him. In raising one, he had earned the enmity of the other, and there was nothing but hatred in the eyes of Milo when he met them. Yet Clodius now spoke his name with pride of a.s.sociation, and as spring had turned to summer, Pompey had even visited the man's home in the city and been flattered and courted in his turn. It was a dangerous game, but better than scattering the pieces and trying for Dictator. As things stood, it would mean civil war and he was not at all sure he would emerge the victor by the end.

As Pompey cleared his throat to speak, he inclined his head to Clodius and saw the man's pleasure at even the slightest mark of respect. That was what Cra.s.sus had seen in the newcomers to the Senate. Though they were savage, they craved the respectability of office, and since Pompey had begun his new course, not one of his clients had suffered at the hands of Clodius's bullies. When Pompey had announced his desire to refurbish the racetrack, it was Clodius who had come to him with the offer of unlimited funds. Pompey had raised a statue to him in grat.i.tude, praising his generosity in the Senate. Milo had responded with an offer to rebuild the Via Appia, and Pompey had masked his delight at the man's transparency, allowing him to place his name on the Porta Capena, where that road entered the city from the south. For the first time in more than a year, he felt that he had control of the city once again in his hands as the two men directed their energies more subtly, each as hungry as the other for recognition and acceptance. The new consuls were made aware of their precarious position and did nothing without first checking with their masters. It was stalemate and the private battles went on.

Pompey read the list of tribes Julius had smashed in the first battles of the spring, taking pleasure in the riveted stillness of the Senate. They listened with awe to the numbers of slaves that had been sent back over the Alps. The Remi had become va.s.sals. The Nervii had been destroyed almost to the last man. The Belgae had been forced to give up their arms and surrender. The Atuatuci had been confined to a single walled town and then stormed. Fifty-three thousand had been sold back to the slave markets of Rome from that last tribe alone.

Pompey read Julius's reports and even he could barely comprehend the hidden strife that lay behind the simple lines. Julius did nothing to sell his victories to the Senate, but the dry tone was all the more impressive for what it did not say. Pompey read it through to the concluding remarks, where Caesar commended the report to the Senate and estimated the yearly revenues in tax from the lands he had taken. Not a sound could be heard in the Curia as Pompey reached the last line.

"*I declare that Gaul has been pacified and will now submit to the lawful rule of Rome.' "

The Senate rose to their feet and cheered themselves hoa.r.s.e in a spontaneous display, and Pompey had to raise his hand to quiet them.

When they had managed to restrain themselves, Pompey spoke, his voice filling the chamber.

"Our G.o.ds have granted us new lands, Senators. We must prove that we are worthy to rule them. As we brought peace to Spain, so shall we bring it to that wilder land. Our citizens will build roads and raise crops there to feed our cities. They will be heard in distant courts that take their authority from us. We will bring Rome to them not because of the strength of our legions, but because we are right and because we are just and because we are beloved of the G.o.ds."

"Pacified? You told them Gaul was pacified?" Brutus said in amazement. "There are places in Gaul where they haven't even heard of us! What were you thinking?"

Julius frowned. "You would prefer I said *still dangerous, but almost pacified'? Hardly the most inspiring words to bring our settlers over the Alps, Brutus."

"I would have stopped short of *almost pacified' as well. It's more truthful to say that these savages nearly did for us all on more occasions than I care to think of. That they fought each other for generations until they found a common enemy in Rome and now we've stuck our hands into the worst wasps' nest I have ever seen. That would have been more truthful, at least."

"All right, right, Brutus. It is done and that's the end of it. I know the situation as well as you, and those tribes who have never seen a Roman soldier will see us soon enough as we build our roads across the country. If the Senate sees me as the conqueror of Gaul, there will be no more talk of recalling me or forcing me to pay my debts. They can count the gold I send back to them and use the slaves to lower the price of wheat and corn. I will be free to run right through to the sea and beyond, even. This is my path, Brutus; can't you see I've found it? This is what I was born for. All I ask is another few years, five perhaps, and Gaul Brutus. It is done and that's the end of it. I know the situation as well as you, and those tribes who have never seen a Roman soldier will see us soon enough as we build our roads across the country. If the Senate sees me as the conqueror of Gaul, there will be no more talk of recalling me or forcing me to pay my debts. They can count the gold I send back to them and use the slaves to lower the price of wheat and corn. I will be free to run right through to the sea and beyond, even. This is my path, Brutus; can't you see I've found it? This is what I was born for. All I ask is another few years, five perhaps, and Gaul will will be pacified. You say they have never heard of us? Well then, I will take lands that Rome does not even know exists! I will see a temple to Jupiter rise above their towns like a cliff of marble. I will bring our civilization, our science, our art to these people who live in such squalor. I will take our legions right up to where the lands meet the sea and over it. Who knows what lies beyond the far coasts? We don't even have maps of the countries there, Brutus. Just legends from the Greeks about foggy islands on the very edge of the world. Does it not fire your imagination?" be pacified. You say they have never heard of us? Well then, I will take lands that Rome does not even know exists! I will see a temple to Jupiter rise above their towns like a cliff of marble. I will bring our civilization, our science, our art to these people who live in such squalor. I will take our legions right up to where the lands meet the sea and over it. Who knows what lies beyond the far coasts? We don't even have maps of the countries there, Brutus. Just legends from the Greeks about foggy islands on the very edge of the world. Does it not fire your imagination?"

Brutus looked at his friend without answering, unsure if any response was really expected. He had seen Julius in this mood before and at times it could still touch him. At that moment, however, he was beginning to worry that Julius would not contemplate an end to their battles of conquest. Even the veterans compared their young commander to Alexander, and Mark Antony did so shamelessly. When the handsome Roman had made the reference in the council, Brutus had expected Julius to scorn it for the clumsy flattery it was, but he had only smiled and gripped Mark Antony by the shoulder, refilling his cup with wine.

The plain of the Helvetii had been enclosed, the vast swaths of land sliced into farms for the settlers from Rome. Julius had been rash with his promises and, just to fulfill them, he had to stay in the field. Simply to pay his legions in silver, he was forced to sack towns and fight not for glory but to fill the coffers and send the t.i.the back to the senators. Brutus could see no end to it and, alone amongst Julius's council, he had begun to doubt the purpose of the war they fought. As a Roman, he could accept the destruction that was the herald of peace, but if it was all to satisfy Julius's desire for power, he could not take joy in it.

Julius never wavered. Though the coalition of the Belgae had pressed them cruelly in the spring, the legions had taken on some of their commander's confidence and the tribes were swept away without mercy. It was as if they were all touched by fate and could not lose. At times, even Brutus was infected by it and could cheer the man who raised his sword to them, his iron-faced helmet glittering like some malevolent G.o.d. But he knew the man beneath it and he knew him too well to walk quietly around him as the legionaries did. Though they won their victories with strength and speed, they saw Julius as the one responsible for all of it. While he lived, they knew they could not be beaten.

Brutus sighed to himself. Perhaps they were right. The whole of eastern Gaul was under the control of the legions, and the roads were being built over hundreds of miles. Rome was growing out of the ground there and Julius was the b.l.o.o.d.y seed for the change. He looked at his friend and saw the fierce pride. Apart from the thinning hair and his scars, he was much the same man he had always known. Yet the soldiers said he was blessed by the G.o.ds. His presence on the battlefield was worth an extra cohort at least as they strove to fight well for him, and Brutus felt ashamed of his own small grievances and the kernel of dislike that he fought to deny.

Publius Cra.s.sus had been given the command of two legions to travel to the north, and Julius's current mood was owed to the fact that the senator's son had brought about the complete surrender of the tribes there. They had their path to the sea and, though Brutus had argued against it, he knew nothing would prevent Julius taking his precious legions to the coast. He dreamed of Alexander and the edge of the world.

Julius's council entered the long room of the fortified camp. They too had changed in their time in Gaul, Brutus noted. Octavian and Publius Cra.s.sus had lost the last traces of their youth in the years of campaign. Both men bore scars and had survived, now stronger. Ciro commanded his cohort with a devotion to Julius that reminded Brutus of a faithful hound. While Brutus could still discuss his doubts with Domitius or Renius, he had found Ciro would leave any room where he found the slightest hint of criticism. Both Romans regarded the other with dislike, forcibly masked for Julius's sake.

How we pretend for him, Brutus thought to himself. While Julius was there, they all acted the part of brothers, leaving their professional disagreements outside. It was almost as if they couldn't bear to see him disappointed in them.

Julius waited for the wine to be poured and laid his notes down on the table. He had already memorized the reports and would not need to refer to them again. Even as Brutus was submerged in his misgivings, he felt himself sit a little straighter under that blue gaze and saw the others respond in like fas.h.i.+on.

At the end of the day, we are all his dogs, Brutus thought, reaching for his cup.

"Your treaty with the Veneti has failed, Cra.s.sus," Julius told the young Roman.

The senator's son shook his head in disbelief and Julius spoke to relieve his distress.

"I did not expect it to last. They are too strong by sea to feel bound by us, and the treaty was only to hold them until we could reach the northwest. I will need control of that coast if I am ever to cross the sea." Julius looked into the distance as he contemplated the future, then shook himself free of it. "They have taken prisoners from the cohort you left and are demanding the release of their hostages in exchange. We must destroy them at sea if we are to bring them back to the negotiating table. I suspect they think that Rome fights only on the land, but there are a few of us who know better."

He paused to let them chuckle and met Ciro's eyes with a smile.

"I have engaged s.h.i.+pwrights and carpenters to build a new port and s.h.i.+ps. Pompey will provide crews to sail through the Pillars of Hercules and beat round Spain to meet us in the north. It suits my plans well enough in any case, and we cannot let their oath breaking go unanswered. Mhorbaine tells me the other tribes are restless and watch any challenge like hawks to see if we cannot respond."

"How long before the s.h.i.+ps are built, though?" Renius asked.

"They will be ready by next spring, if I can find funds to pay for them. I have written to request the Senate take on the burden of paying for our new legions. Cra.s.sus has a.s.sured me he will make the loan if the Senate fails us, but there is every reason to suppose they are pleased with our progress here. Perhaps too, the winter will not be so hard this year and we can make our preparations in the dark months."

Julius drummed his fingers on the table.

"I have a single report from a scout on the Rhine. More of the Germanic tribes have crossed into our land and must be repulsed. I have sent five of the Aedui to confirm the sightings and bring a fresh estimate of their numbers. I will engage them before they come too far into our own land. Once they have been beaten, I plan to cross the river and pursue them as I should have done with the Suebi. I cannot allow the wild tribes over the river to attack our flanks whenever they smell a hint of weakness. I will make them a reply they will not forget in a generation and seal the Rhine behind me when I return."

He looked around the table as they digested the news.

"We must move quickly to crush each threat as it appears. Just one more at this time and we would be stretched from one end of Gaul to another. I will take my Tenth and the Third Gallica under Brutus to the Rhine. One of the new Gaul legions will accompany us in the rear. There will be no conflict of loyalty against such an enemy. Mhorbaine has agreed to have his cavalry travel with me once again. The rest of you will act independently in my name.

"Cra.s.sus, I expect you to return to the northwest and destroy the land forces of the Veneti. Burn their s.h.i.+ps, or at least force them off the coast and prevent them landing for supplies. Domitius, you will take the Fourth Gallica with him in support. Mark Antony, you will remain here with your legion. The Twelfth and Fifth Ariminum will stay with you. You will be my center and I expect you not to lose any of the lands we have won while I am away. Use caution, but strike if the need arises.

"The last task is an easy one, Bericus. Your Ariminum legion has earned a rest and I need a good man to oversee the new settlers coming over the Alps. The Senate will be sending four praetors to govern the new provinces, and they will need to be shown the realities of our situation here."

Bericus groaned and rolled his eyes, making Julius laugh. The thought of having to play nursemaid to thousands of green Roman settlers was hardly an ideal appointment, but Bericus was a sound administrator and Julius had spoken the truth when he said the legion had earned a period away from the pace of constant battle they had endured.

Julius continued to give out his orders and positions until each man there knew his lines of supply and the extent of his authority. He smiled when they replied with wit and he answered every query with the complete knowledge they had come to expect from him. The legionaries claimed that he knew the name of every man under his command, and whether that was true or not, Julius had mastered every aspect of the legion life. He was never at a loss or unable to provide a quick answer to any question put to him, and it all went further to establish the confidence of the men.

Brutus looked again around the table and found nothing but determination in those who were given tasks that meant hards.h.i.+p, pain, and perhaps death for some or all of them. As Julius spread out his maps and began to move to the more detailed matters of terrain and supply, Brutus watched him, barely hearing the words. How many of the men in that room would see Rome again? he wondered. As Julius traced the line of the Rhine with his finger and told them his a.s.sessments, Brutus could not imagine a time when the man he followed could ever be made to stop.

CHAPTER 32.

On the first autumn day of Julius's fourth year in Gaul, Pompey and Cra.s.sus walked together through the forum, deep in conversation. Around them, the great open s.p.a.ce at the center of the city was filled with thousands of citizens and slaves. Orators addressed those who could be persuaded to listen, and their voices carried over the heads of the crowd on a hundred different subjects. Slaves from wealthy houses hurried through, carrying packages and scrolls for their masters. It had become fas.h.i.+onable to dress house slaves in bright colors, and many wore bright blue or gold tunics, a myriad of shades that wove through the darker reds and browns of workers and merchants. Armed guards made stately progress across the forum, each group surrounding their employer at the center. It was the bustling, hurried heart of the city, and neither Pompey nor Cra.s.sus noticed the subtle differences in the mood of the crowd around them.

The first Pompey knew of the trouble to come was a rough shove as one of his legionaries was knocked into him. Sheer astonishment made Pompey forget his instincts for survival, and he stopped. The crowd was thickening even as he hesitated, and the faces were ugly with intent. Cra.s.sus recovered faster and pulled Pompey toward the Senate house. If there was to be yet another riot, it was best to get clear as quickly as possible and send the guards out to restore order.

The s.p.a.ce around the senators was filled with pus.h.i.+ng, jeering men. A stone flew over their heads and struck someone else in the crowd. Pompey saw one of his lictors brought down with a blow from a length of wood and felt a moment of panic before he gathered his courage. He drew a dagger from his belt and held it blade-down so that it could be used to stab or slash. When one of the crowd pressed too close, he opened the man's cheek without hesitation, seeing him fall back with a cry.

"Guards! To me!" Pompey roared.

The crowd bayed at him and he saw three burly men force one of his legionaries to the ground, stabbing at him over and over as they were lost to view. A woman screamed nearby and Pompey heard his call taken up by the horror-struck citizens beyond the men who were attacking him. Milo's men, he was certain. He should have expected it after their leader's isolation in the Senate, but Pompey had only a handful of soldiers and lictors with him and they would not be enough. He used his dagger again and saw Cra.s.sus lash out a fist, snapping the nose of an attacker.

The lictors were armed with a ceremonial axe and rods for scourging. Once they had freed them from the bindings, the hatchets were fearsome weapons in a crowd and they literally cut a path for Pompey and Cra.s.sus toward the Senate house. Yet their numbers dwindled as knives were jabbed into them, and the circle of safety around the two senators shrank until there was almost no room for them to move in the press.

Pompey knew hope and despair in the same moment when he heard horns sounding across the forum. His legion had turned out for him, but it would be too late. Fingers yanked cruelly at his toga and he sliced his dagger into them, sawing in a frenzy until they fell away. Cra.s.sus was knocked from his feet by another stone, and Pompey dragged him up and onward, holding him close as the older man gathered his wits. There was blood on his mouth.

The noise hammered at them and then changed slightly. New faces appeared in even greater numbers and Pompey saw them cut down the ones who struggled to reach him. Knots of bellowing men separated from the ma.s.s, fighting not as legionaries but with cleavers and meathooks and stones held in their hands. Pompey saw one man's face smashed into pulp by repeated blows before he fell.

All forward movement ceased and though Pompey could see the steps of the Senate house only a short distance away, it was too far. He jabbed his dagger into everything he could reach in a fury and didn't know he was shouting in a mindless rage.

The press of bodies lightened without warning and Pompey saw the b.l.o.o.d.y knives of raptores held almost in salute as they backed away. Crushed bodies and screaming, wounded men lay all about them, but they did not attack. Pompey beckoned, holding his dagger ready, the blade parallel to his forearm. Sweat poured from him and he watched in astonishment as the men pulled back to form a pathway to the steps of the Senate house. He darted a glance in that direction and considered how far he would get if he ran, then decided against it. He would not show them his back.

In that moment, he saw the uniforms of his legions battering through the press and Clodius standing there, panting. The mob leader seemed terribly solid compared to the others. Though he was not a tall man, he was tremendously strong and the crowd gave ground instinctively around him, as wolves will look away from the most brutal of the pack. His shaven head gleamed with sweat in the morning sun. Pompey could only stare.

"They've scattered, Pompey, the ones who lived," Clodius said. "Call off your soldiers." His right hand was wet with blood and the blade he carried had snapped off close to the hilt.

Pompey turned as an officer of his legion raised his sword to cut Clodius down.

"Hold!" Pompey cried, understanding at last. "These are allies."

Clodius nodded at that and Pompey heard the order repeated as the legion gathered around him, forming a fighting square. Clodius began to be pushed away, but Pompey took his arm.

"Do I need to guess who is behind this attack?" he asked.

Clodius shrugged his ma.s.sive shoulders. "He is already in the Senate building. There will be no link back to him, you can be sure. Milo is cunning enough to keep his hands clean." As if in irony, Clodius threw down his broken knife and wiped his b.l.o.o.d.y fists on the hem of his robe.

"You had men ready?" Pompey asked, hating the constant suspicion that was part of his life.

Clodius narrowed his eyes at the implication. "No. I never set foot in the forum without fifty of my lads. They were enough to reach you in time. I knew nothing until it started."

"Then we owe our lives to your quick thinking," Pompey said. He heard a whimper cut off nearby and spun round. "Are there any left alive to be questioned?"

Clodius looked at him. "Not now. There are no names given in that sort of work. Believe me, I know."

Pompey nodded, trying to ignore the inner voice that wondered if Clodius had staged the whole thing. It was an unpleasant thought, but he owed a debt to the man that would bind him for years. To many men in the Senate, such a debt would be worth the deaths of a few of their servants, and Clodius was known to be ruthless in every part of his life. Pompey met Cra.s.sus's eyes and guessed the old man was thinking along similar lines. Very slightly, Cra.s.sus lifted his shoulders and let them drop, and Pompey looked back to the man who had saved them. There was no way of knowing and probably never would be.

Pompey realized he was still gripping his dagger and uncurled his fingers painfully from the hilt. He felt old next to the bull-like strength of Clodius. While part of him wanted to wash the blood from his skin and soak in a hot bath somewhere private and, above all, safe, he knew more was expected from him. Hundreds of men stood within earshot and before nightfall the whole grisly incident would be the talking point of every shop and tavern in the city.

"I am late for the Senate, gentlemen," he said, his voice growing in strength. "Clean away the blood before I return. The corn taxes won't be delayed for any man."

It wasn't much in the way of wit, but Clodius chuckled.

With Cra.s.sus at his shoulder, Pompey walked along the avenue of Clodius's men, and many bowed their heads respectfully as they pa.s.sed.

The Tenth withdrew in panic, their orderly lines dissolving into the chaos of a complete rout. Thousands of the Senones cavalry pursued them, breaking off from the main battle where the Ariminum legions fought solidly and held the line.

The fortified camp from the night before was less than a mile away, and the retreating Tenth covered it at great speed, Julius with them. The extraordinarii protected the rear from the wild a.s.saults by the Senones, and not a man was lost as they reached the heavy gates of the fort and rushed inside.

The Senones were proving to be difficult adversaries. Julius had lost large numbers of the Third Gallica in an ambush from woodland and others since then. The tribe had learned not to offer a direct battle against the legions. Instead, they skirmished and moved away, using their cavalry to hara.s.s the Roman forces without ever allowing themselves to be caught where they could be crushed.

The extraordinarii followed the men of the Tenth under the gates of the fort and closed them behind. It was a humiliating position, but the fort had been designed for exactly that purpose. As well as giving protection for the night, it allowed the legions to retreat to a strong position. The Senones riders whooped and yelled as they rode round the huge banked walls, though they were careful to keep out of range. Twice before, Julius had been forced to bring back his entire force within the walls, and the Senones hooted as they brought it about again.

Their king rode with them and long banners waved from spears set into his saddle. Julius watched from the wall as the Senones' leader brandished his sword at the men in the fort, mocking them. Julius showed his teeth.

"Now, Brutus!" he called down.

The Senones could not see into the camp and their cheering continued unabated. Over the thunder of their own hooves, they did not hear the extraordinarii as they gathered at the far end and kicked their mounts into a gallop across the wide camp, straight at the wall near the gate.

As they gathered speed, fifty men of the Tenth used lengths of wood to break down the loose blocks that made up the wall. It fell away just as Julius had designed it to do, leaving an open s.p.a.ce wide enough for five horses to ride abreast.

The extraordinarii came out like arrows, straight at the king. Before his riders could react, he was surrounded and dragged from his horse. The extraordinarii wheeled in the face of the enemy and galloped back inside the gap in the walls, with the king yelling across Brutus's saddle.

Julius opened the gates and the Tenth marched out in triumph. The panic and fear they had pretended had vanished and they hit the milling Senones with a roar. The Tenth hammered them with spears and swords and forced the Gauls farther and farther away from the fort and their captured king. Behind them, the hole in the wall was filled with carts that had been left for that purpose and Julius leapt into his saddle to race after them, glancing back to see the fort made secure once more.

It had taken a moonless night to construct the false wall, but it could not have worked better. The king of the Senones had been crucial to their attacks, a man able to answer every stratagem with speed and intelligence. Removing him from the battle was a vital step in beating the tribe.

Julius cantered to the front line of the Tenth and saw their pleasure at his presence. The Ariminum legions were holding their position as they had been told, and now the Tenth could strike the rear of the Senones, smas.h.i.+ng them between the two forces.

From the first instant of the Tenth reaching their lines, Julius could feel the difference in the s.h.i.+fting ma.s.s of riders and foot soldiers. They had relied too much on their king, and without him they were already close to panic.

Though they tried to detach in units as their king had ordered on previous days, the core of discipline had vanished. Instead of an orderly retreat for tactical advantage, two charges fouled each other as they tried to organize themselves. The Tenth smashed them down from their saddles and moved on. Riderless horses ran screaming around the battlefield and the Senones were crushed, hundreds of them throwing down their arms and surrendering as the news of the king's capture spread.

Three miles away lay their largest town and Julius marched the Tenth toward it as soon as the warriors were disarmed and bound as slaves. The price for them would swell his coffers still further, and the town was known to be wealthy. After he paid his share to the Senate, he still hoped to have enough to increase his fleet and finally be able to cross the grim channel between Gaul and the islands. They had captured nine s.h.i.+ps from the Veneti, but he would need another twenty galleys to take more than a scouting force to sea. One more year to build them and then he would take his best men to lands no Roman had ever seen before.

As the Tenth marched toward the Senones' stronghold, Julius laughed aloud with the excitement of such a prospect, even as his mind filled with the thousand details of supply and administration that his men required to take the field. He was to meet with a delegation from three tribes along the coast in two days and expected them to bring tribute and a new treaty. With the Veneti fleet sunk or run aground, that whole part of the north had surrendered to him, and now that the Senones had been removed from the equation, a full half of Gaul was his. There were no tribes who hadn't heard of the legions by then. Gaul was buzzing with the news of his conquests, and he rarely saw a day when their leaders didn't travel to his camps and wait for his signature on a treaty. Adrn was kept busy and had been forced to take on three other scribes to handle the endless copying and translation.

Julius wondered what to do with the king he had captured. If he was left alive, Julius thought him capable of leading a rebellion in the years to come. The king's own ability prevented mercy and Julius decided his fate without regret.

As the Senones' town came into view, Julius looked with pleasure on it, already imagining the temples within. It was known that the Senones showed their love of the G.o.ds with coins and jewelry, forming rooms of treasure over many years. After the legion smiths had melted the precious metal down into bars and struck new coins, Julius would strip anything of value from every house and public building. He would leave the people alive and under the protection of the legions, but he needed their wealth to go on.

A cold wind touched him from across the plain, and Julius s.h.i.+vered at the first chill of another winter. He narrowed his eyes as he looked east, imagining the Alps and the distance that he would have to cross. For the first time, he would not be spending the cold months in Gaul. Instead, he would travel to Ariminum for a meeting to decide the future.