"And you are certain of winning?"

"I am, Your Grace. We have six legions plus the foot. Even counting the barbarians as a legion, Marselius has but four."

"So you have half again his strength."

"More, Your Grace. With forces matched this evenly, it is as the square of the two. Say thirty-six to sixteen. As if we had double his force. But that would be for a frontal assault. I think we can do better when Marselius advances. He always was a rash leader."

Polycarp looked at him sharply. "Be certain of victory. Then go with God. For Rome can little enough afford the loss of her knights, when the barbarians pound at our gates, and the star our ancestors called Beelzebub hangs higher each day. But-will not Marselius simply remain where he is? Why should he place his head in your snare?"

"He has little choice, Your Grace. There is very nearly nothing to eat where he is encamped." Flaminius Caesar had rightly forbidden him to strip all of the lands along Marselius's line of march; but he had allowed him this valley. A raven crossing that land would need to carry rations.

Marselius and the barbarians carried rations, of course. Grain and fodder for the horses, too. But never enough, not for that army. Marselius would have to fight, on ground chosen by Frugi. And Marselius would lose.

An hour passed. Trumpets sounded from the west. Marselius was on the march. But the barbarians were deploying as if for battle. They hadn't moved up the road. Not even their light cavalry.

Then there were shouts from his troops. A staff officer rode up jabbering.

"What? Speak up, man!"

The officer pointed.

Two miles away, a brightly colored object trailing black smoke rose in the sky. A wind carried it toward him. When he strained his eyes, he thought he could see a thin line connecting it to the ground. Smoke rose from the place it was tethered.

"What?" Frugi asked. "Surely it is nothing to fear." But he felt fear, all the same. Fear and terror of the unknown. Star weapons…

Star weapons are only weapons, he told himself. Like bows, with long-ranging arrows. Like ballistae that shoot far. But as bows need arrows, the star weapons need-need something I don't have a word for. But something. And their supplies are limited.

Another staff officer rode up. A frumentarius. Why was he so excited?

"Balloon," the intelligence officer stammered.

Titus Frugi frowned in puzzlement.

"We heard of them from the Pirate Lands, Proconsul," the officer said. "But we paid no heed. Until now."

"What are you jabbering about?"

"Balloon," he said. "See, it drifts toward us on the wind. And it is higher than we can shoot. Look closely, Proconsul."

Titus Frugi looked, and saw disaster. There were men in the basket hanging below the balloon. They were pointing at the troops hidden in ambush.

The semaphore flags waved. An acolyte of Yatar stared at the basket beneath the balloon and called out letters. Another wrote the message.

"We have found the enemy's staff officers, lord," the scribe said.

Rick hid a thin smile of amusement. These lads were so proud of being among the very few who could read that they forgot that anyone else could. "Thank you." He turned to Mason. "Think it's worth dropping a couple on the ridge?"

Mason shrugged. "Sure."

"We'll wait a bit more, though," Rick said. "Ah. Murphy's located an ambush force. Just about where I'd figured from the map. But it's nice to have it confirmed. Dismounted. They'll be out of action for a while-"

Gradually he gathered details as the semaphore flags wagged and waved. Two legions poised here. Another there, masked by an orchard. Two more in reserve. Hah. Titus Frugi had more force than Marselius had suspected. Must have drained everything, every trooper he could raise "Caradoc!" Rick shouted. "Get me messengers to ride to Marselius. Win this battle and by Yatar we've won the whole bloody war!"

"It was you who said it would be disaster," Bishop Polycarp reminded him.

And it damned well is, too, Titus Frugi thought. But how can I avoid a battle? I can't even disengage! By now Marselius knows every formation I have, how many, where they are- Is he smart enough to divine which troops I can trust and which I can't? Which I can allow to wander through the trees, and which must stay under the eyes of their centurions? (And one legion whose centurions weren't trustworthy; that whole legion had to be watched by another.)

"What would you have me do, Your Grace?"

Polycarp shook his head slowly. "Avoid slaughter. If you must fight-fight barbarians. Do not let Roman armies kill each other while the heathens remain!"

Good advise, old man. But I've fought those barbarians. You haven't. Still, I suppose there's nothing for it.

It had looked so simple. Until that thing rose in the sky. And now-now everything he did would be reported to Marselius. While he had no information at all on where his enemies marched,

Disaster. Strange how small a thing can bring disaster. And how little you expect it.

Presently the enemy strategy was clear. Marselius's right wing advanced, slowly, through the crop-lands and orchards, while the barbarian left wing stayed behind. With his army split by the ridge, Frugi couldn't simply sweep Marselius from the field; and how could he break past the barbarians and fall on Marselius from behind now that his ambush was discovered?

"They are only foot soldiers," one of the legates said. "Barbarians at that. How can they withstand a charge of legionary horse?"

"I have described Sentinius to you," Frugi said wearily. "And then they had no balloon." The evil thing hung in the sky directly to the west. It must somehow communicate with the ground, because Marselius deployed against the legion Frugi had hidden in the orchards; and when the legion withdrew, Marselius closed his ranks again.

"It is held to the ground by that rope," the frumentarius said. "Cut the rope and it must drift free. This has happened before."

"How do you know this?"

"We heard this from spies," the intelligence officer said. "But we did not believe them."

"So." Frugi pointed to where the end of the balloon's tether lay. "We need go only there-"

"Where there are few barbarians," the legate said.

That was true enough. There were no more than a hundred to guard the balloon's tether. But- "Few indeed," Frugi said. "Now consider this. Their whole formation is like a funnel, with only emptiness at the bottom. With nothing where they keep their balloon. As if they cannot believe we know it to be vulnerable. Or that we do not know its value. Tell me, Legate: would Caius Marius Marselius know the value of a balloon?"

"He would, Proconsul."

"Then can we not assume that the barbarians who possess it must know?"

"We can-"

"Then we must assume they will protect it. With their star weapons, perhaps. With something. No. I will not send a legion down those lanes to chase a lure." Frugi studied the battle ground again. "But-perhaps-"

"Yes, Proconsul?"

"Their left flank. Spearmen. Supported by archers, but the archers are further in. There is a gap between their spearmen and the woods. I would suppose their horse waits there, just beyond where we can see, hidden by those woods. But-their horse is no match for a legion; and we have horse archers in plenty. These barbarians have never seen our archery. Perhaps, Valerius, it is time they learned."

"It will be my pleasure to teach them," the legate said.

"Do so. Recall the Eleventh from hiding in the trees and remount them. Take them and the Eighth.