Julius frowned to himself as he tried to find a comfortable position to lie down. Whether they would stand when all around them had been cut down and the enemy brought certain death to them with screaming triumph… that they couldn't know for sure until it happened. It didn't help that the men of Accipiter weren't even sure themselves where such wild courage came from. A man could spend a lifetime avoiding every conflict, then throw his life away to protect someone he loved. Julius closed his eyes. Perhaps that was the key, but not many men loved Rome. The city was too big, too impersonal. The legionaries Julius had known never thought of the republic of free voters, carved out on seven hills by a river. What they fought for was their general, their legion, even their century or their friends. A man standing next to his friends cannot run, for shame.

Suetonius yelped suddenly, leaping to his feet and beating at himself.

“Help! There's something on the ground here!” he shouted.

Julius jumped to his feet and the other men closed in on the fire, swords drawn. A part of Julius noted with pleasure that Ciro stayed at his post.

In the light of the fire, a black line of enormous ants moved like oil over the ground, disappearing back into the shadows beyond the light. Suetonius was becoming frantic and began to tear off his clothes.

“They're all over me!” he wailed.

Pelitas stepped forward to help him and as his foot stepped near the column, part of it slid toward him and he scrambled back with a shout, pulling at his legs with his bare fingers.

“Gods, get them off!” he cried.

The camp dissolved into chaos. Those who had been brought up on the coast were far calmer than the Accipiter officers. The ants bit as deeply as rats, and when the soldiers found them, their bodies broke away to leave the jaws still attached and tearing into the skin in death spasms. The grip was too strong to be pulled away with fingers, and Suetonius was soon covered in the dark heads, his hands bloody with tugging at them.

Julius called Ciro over and watched as he calmly checked the two Romans, breaking off the remaining bodies with his powerful hands.

“They're still in me! Can't you get the heads out?” Suetonius pleaded with him, shuddering in terror as he stood almost naked while the big man searched his skin for the last of them.

Ciro shrugged. “The jaws must be dug free with a knife, they can't be prized apart. The tribes use them to close wounds, like stitches.”

“What are they?” Julius asked.

“Soldiers of the forest. They guard the column on the march. My father used to say they were like the outriders Rome uses. If you stay clear, they will not attack you, but if you are in their path, they'll make you jump like Suetonius.”

Pelitas turned a baleful eye on the column that still streamed through the camp. “We could burn them,” he said.

Ciro shook his head sharply. “The line is endless. Better just to move away from them.”

“Right, you heard him,” Julius said. “Pack up and get ready to move a mile down the coast. Suetonius, I want you clothed and ready to go. You and Pelitas can work the jaws out of your skin when we're settled again.”

“It's agony,” Suetonius whimpered.

Ciro looked at him and Julius felt a pang of shame and irritation that the young officer was showing such a poor face to the recruits.

“Move, or I'll tie you down over the ants myself,” he said.

The threat seemed to have an effect, and before the moon moved far in the sky, a new camp was set up, with Ciro and two others finishing their watch. They would all be tired from lack of sleep in the morning after the excitement.

Julius's head throbbed slowly, seeming to match the rhythms of the droning insects all around them. Every time he drifted into sleep, he'd feel the sting of an insect settling onto his exposed skin. They left smears of his own blood as he caught and cracked them, but there were always more waiting for him to lie still. He made a pillow of his kit and used a rag to cover his face, longing for the distant skies of Rome. For a moment, he could see Cornelia in his mind and he smiled. Exhaustion hit him moments later.

With itching red swellings on their skin and shadows under their eyes, they reached the next settlement before noon, less than a mile from the coast. Julius led the men into the square, taking in the sights and smells of a touch of civilization. He was struck again by the absence of fortifications of any kind. The old soldiers who had taken their lands on this coast must have little fear of attack, he thought. The farms were small, but there must be trade between these isolated places and native villages farther into the interior. He saw a number of black faces among the Romans who gathered to see his men. He wondered how long it would take for the Roman blood to mingle and be lost, so that distant generations would know nothing at all of their ancient fathers and their lives. The land would return to whatever state it had been in before they came, and even the stories around campfires would falter and be forgotten. He wondered if they remembered the empire of Carthage here, when thousands of ships had explored the world from ports along this very coastline. It was a chilling thought and he put it aside for later reflection, knowing he had to focus his mind if he was to come away from this place with more of what he needed.

As they had been told to do, his men stood to attention in the double line, their expressions serious. With Julius's sword, only eight more of the men were armed and only three had proper armor. Spots of blood marked Suetonius's tunic and his fingers twitched to itch the scabs the ants had left all over him. Most of the Accipiter officers were raw from the sun and insects, and only the new recruits seemed unaffected.

Julius guessed they looked more like a troop of bandits or pirates than Roman legionaries, and saw more than a few of the people arm themselves surreptitiously, nervousness showing in all of them. A butcher paused in the process of cutting up what looked like a cousin of the young pig they had eaten the previous evening. He came out from behind his table with the cleaver resting on his arm, ready for a sudden attack. Julius let his gaze drift over the crowd, looking for whoever had the command. There was always someone, even in the wilderness.

After a tense wait, five men approached from the far end of the houses. Four were armed, three of them with long-handled wood axes and the last carrying a gladius that had snapped in some old battle, leaving him with little better than a heavy dagger.

The fifth man walked confidently to the newcomers. He had iron-gray hair and was thin as a stick. Julius guessed he was pushing sixty, but he had the upright bearing of an old soldier, and when he spoke, it was in the fluent Latin of the city.

“My name is Parrakis. This is a peaceful village. What do you want here?” he asked.

He addressed his question to Julius and seemed unafraid. In that moment, Julius changed his plan of browbeating the leader as he had the first. The village might have dealings with the pirates, but there was little evidence that they had profited from it. The houses and people were clean but unadorned.

“We are soldiers of Rome, lately of the galley Accipiter. We were ransomed by a pirate named Celsus. We mean to gather a crew and find him. This is a Roman settlement. I expect your aid.”

Parrakis raised his eyebrows. “I am sorry, there is nothing here for you. I haven't seen Italy for twenty years or more. There is no debt to be paid by the families here. If you have silver, you may buy food, but then you must go.”

Julius stepped a little closer, noting the way Parrakis's companions tensed while ignoring them conspicuously.