Marcus snapped off a salute, much crisper than that of the cook, yet held a little too long. Renius could sense his insolence and considered breaking the boy's mouth for him. No, right now he needed that stupid confidence of youth. He'd learn soon enough what killing was like.

As the men returned, he sent them to positions along the walls. They were far too few, but he believed what he had said to Caecilius. The outbuildings would be burned, no doubt; the granaries would probably go and the animals would be slaughtered, but the main complex would not be worth the deaths it would take. An army could take it in minutes, he knew-but these were slaves, drunk on stolen wine and freedom that would vanish again with the morning sun. One strong man with a good sword arm and a ruthless temperament could handle a mob.

There was no sign yet of Julius or Cabera. No doubt the former was putting on his breastplate and greaves, the full uniform. But where had the old healer got to? That bow of his would be a useful asset in the first few minutes of bloodshed.

The noise of the men on the walls was like a flock of geese cackling in excited nervousness.

"Silence!" Renius snapped. "The next man to speak will get back down here and face me."

In the sudden absence of chatter, they could again hear the screams and yells of the slaves in the fields.

"We need to listen to what is going on outside. Keep silent and stretch a few muscles. Keep a distance from the next man along, so you can swing without cutting his head off."

The men shuffled apart from the little knots that had formed out of a need for contact. The fear was in all their eyes. Renius cursed to himself. Ten good men from his old legion and he could hold this place until dawn. These were children with sticks and knives. He took a deep breath as he tried to find words to encourage them. Even the iron legions had needed speeches to fire their blood, and they were confident of their skills.

"There is nowhere to run to. If the mob breaks past you, everyone in this house will die. That is your responsibility. You must not leave your position-we are stretched thinly enough as it is. The wall is four feet wide-one long pace. Learn it-if you take more than one step back, you will fall."

He watched as the men shuffled around on the wall, checking the width for themselves. His face hardened.

"I will keep fighters in the courtyard to deal with any that get over the wall. Do not look down, even if you see your friends being killed before you."

Cabera came out of the buildings, his bow restrung in his hand. "This is how you inspire them? Your empire is built on this sort of speech?" he muttered.

Renius frowned at him. "I have never lost a battle. Not with my legion, not in the arena. I have never had a man run or break under my command. If you run, you will pass me, and I will not run."

"I won't run," Marcus said clearly, into the silence.

Renius met his eyes, seeing a touch of the madness he had witnessed before.

"Nor will I, Renius," said another.

The others all nodded and murmured that they would sooner die, but still the faces of a few were puckered in terror.

"Your children, your brothers, your fathers will ask you if you did. Be sure you can look them all in the eye."

Heads nodded and shoulders lifted a little straighter.

"Better," Cabera muttered again.

Julius moved easily through the open door onto the courtyard. His breastplate and leggings were oiled and smooth. His short scabbard swung as he walked. His face was a brutal mask as an obvious rage burned inside. The men on the wall turned away from him, looking out over the fields.

"I will take the head of every man from my estate not within these walls," he growled.

Cabera shook his head quickly, not wanting to disagree with the man while those on the wall were listening. "Sir," he whispered. "They all have friends outside. Good men and women who are trapped or unable to fight through to you. Such a threat hurts their morale."

"It pleases me. Every man outside these walls will be killed and I will pile their heads inside the gates! This is my home and Rome is my city. We will cut out the filth that burn the houses and scatter them on the wind! Do you hear me, little man?" His internal fury built into incandescent rage. Renius and Cabera stared at him as he climbed up the corner steps and walked the length of the wall, shouting orders and noting sloppiness.

"For a man in politics, he has an unusual approach to a problem," Cabera said quietly.

"Rome is full of men like him. That, my friend, is why we have an empire, not empty speeches." Renius smiled his shark smile and walked over to where the women waited in a quietly murmuring group.

"What can we do?" asked a slave girl. He recognized her as the one he had whipped so many months ago for distracting the boys in their training. Her name was Alexandria, it came back to him. While the others shrank from his gaze, as befitted the rank of slaves of the house, she held his eyes and waited for his answer.

"Fetch some knives. If anyone gets past the wall, you must fall on them and keep stabbing until they are dead."

A gasp came from a couple of the older women, and one looked a little sick.

"Do you want to be raped and killed? Gods, woman, I am not asking you to stand on the wall, just to protect our backs. There are too few men to bring some down to protect you as well!" He had no patience with their softness. Good for bed, but when you had to depend on one… Gods!

Alexandria nodded. "Knives. The spare wood axe is in the stable, unless someone has it. Go and search for some, Susanna. Quickly now."

A matronly type, still looking pale, trotted off on the errand.

"Can we carry water? Arrows? Fire? Is there anything else we can do?"

"Nothing," Renius snapped, losing patience. "Just make sure you kill anyone that lands in the yard. Put a knife in their throat before they can regain their feet. It's a ten-foot fall; there'll be a moment of weakness when you must strike."

"We won't let you down, sir," Alexandria replied.

He held her gaze for a second longer, noting the flash of hate that broke through the calm demeanor. He seemed to have more enemies in this place than outside the walls!

"See you don't," he said curtly, and turned on his heel.

The cook had returned with a large metal plate strapped to his chest. His enthusiasm was embarrassing, but Renius clapped him on the shoulder as he went to join the others.

Tubruk was standing with Cabera, holding a strung bow in his large hands.

"Old Lucius is a fine shot with a bow, but he's in the kitchens setting up for the wounded," he said, his face grim.

"Get him out here. He can climb down later, when he's done the job," Renius replied, without looking at him. He was scanning the walls, noting the positions, looking for failing nerves. They couldn't hold against a proper attack, so he prayed to his household god that the slaves outside couldn't mount one.

"Will the slaves have bows?" he asked Tubruk.

"One or two small ones for hares, perhaps. There's not a decent bow on the estate except for this-and Cabera's."

"Good. Otherwise, they could pick us all off. We'll have to light the torches in the yard soon, to give them light to kill by. It will silhouette the men, but they can't fight in the dark, not this lot."

"They may surprise you, Renius. Your name has a lot of power still. Remember the crowds at the games? Every man here will have a story for all the generations of his family to come, if he survives."

Renius snorted. "You'd better get to the wall; there's a space on the far side."

Tubruk shook his head. "The others have accepted you as leader, I know. Even Julius will listen to you once his temper calms down. I will stay by Marcus, to protect him. With your permission?"