Under that benign eye, Labienus gave the order and the lines of men dissolved as they fell out to head for the barracks. The smell of hot food was already wafting through the air and Pompey remembered Labienus would be as hungry as they were after such a long morning. He would have the best meats brought for the general. Labienus would understand the compliment without more having to be said.

As they rode toward the temple Pompey had taken as his base, Labienus cleared his throat. From experience, Pompey knew the man would not speak without permission. He was a fine example to his men.

"Speak, General. Tell me what is on your mind," Pompey said.

"I would like to send a galley to watch Ostia, with your permission. If we know when they sail, we will be prepared to receive them. Our fleet could very well sink the enemy ships before they are even in sight of Greece."

"You would regret that, Labienus, I imagine? It would deprive us both of the chance to beat him here," Pompey replied.

Labienus lifted his shoulders slightly. "A little, sir, but I would not ignore a chance to end it, even so."

"Very well, use my seal on the orders, but tell the captain to stay well clear of the coast. I have a spy in the port there to tell me when Caesar assembles his legions. We will not be surprised by them."

"I expected as much, sir," Labienus said. The two men glanced at each other and both smiled.

The temple of Jupiter in Dyrrhachium had nothing like the opulence of the one in the forum in Rome. It had been built for Greek gods before its current role, and Pompey had chosen it for its space and central location rather than any religious significance. Nonetheless, it seemed fitting to have the head of the pantheon watch his preparations, and Pompey had noticed his servants and soldiers were subtly awed by their surroundings. There was no coarse language heard within its walls and it was rare that their voices were raised above murmurs. Pompey had made a large donation to the temple priests and it came as no surprise that they approved his choice. Jupiter Victor was a military god, after all.

Leaving their horses in the hands of legion grooms, both men strode inside through the high white columns. Pompey paused for a moment on the threshold, his eyes watching for signs that the men within were not busy at their work.

The air of quiet bustle was exactly as he had left it that morning. More than two hundred officers, clerks, and slaves were there to administer his new legions, and the clacking sound of hurrying sandals echoed in the space. Pompey had brought in heavy tables for his maps and at each of those were senior officers, their heads bent as they made marks and discussed the positions. Silence spread as they stood stiffly to salute. Pompey returned the gesture and the work resumed without ceremony.

Labienus gave his helmet and sword to a waiting slave and Pompey ordered food brought for them as they walked down the central aisle together. The main map had been hung on the wall and Pompey went straight for it, already considering the problems of the campaign. As tall and wide as a man, it was painted onto squares of soft calfskin, smoothed to velvet with pumice stones. The whole of Italy and Greece lay there, rendered in perfect color and detail.

Pompey checked his hands were free of dirt and touched the key ports of the western coast of Greece.

"I would appreciate your views, Labienus. If the fleet does not stop Caesar, he will have hundreds of miles of coast to choose for his landing, north and south. If I gather our army in any one place, he can avoid the area we control and establish his camps in perfect safety. Yet even with fifty thousand men, I cannot guard every single mile of Greece."

Labienus looked up at the map, his hard face resembling a man at prayer.

"We must assume all seven of his legions survive the gauntlet of our ships," Labienus said. "It is not likely, but we must plan for it. They will need a huge amount of supplies each day and he will not be able to wait for us to come to him, unless he lets them starve. I have found that food and water win battles as readily as strength of arms."

"I have prepared," Pompey replied. "Dyrrhachium will be our main store. The city is bursting with grain." He expected a compliment and was surprised when Labienus frowned.

"Perhaps it would be better not to leave such a resource in one single town. I do not say it can be done, but if he were able to cut us off from Dyrrhachium, where would we be? Eleven legions need even more meat than seven."

Pompey called a clerk and dictated an order. In the months since their first meeting, he had come to realize that Labienus had a mind for such details and a quick grasp of the problems of a long campaign. Simply gathering eleven legions in one place caused immense difficulties of supply. Labienus had first come to his attention as he had created lines from the farms and cities of Greece into the west. As far as Pompey knew, not a single man had been short of rations from the first month. It was an awesome achievement.

"If he avoids our fleet and lands in the east," Labienus continued thoughtfully, "he will have been at sea for more than a month and be running low on freshwater. His men would have to march hundreds of miles just to reach us. If he were not given to the sort of innovation you have described, I would ignore the east completely. Far better for him to make for one of the main ports in the west, though our galleys are swarming here. Dyrrhachium in the north, Apollonia, or Oricum would be my estimate. I would bet on those three, or some stretch of the coast in between. He will not want to be at sea longer than he has to, with our galleys ready to attack."

"Of those, which would be your choice?" Pompey asked.

Labienus laughed, a sound like chopping wood that disappeared as quickly as it came. "I can only guess at his choice, sir. If I were running his campaign, I would choose Oricum, knowing your legions will be spread around the cluster of ports further north. At least then I would not have to fight on two fronts."

The sound of loud footsteps interrupted them and Pompey looked down the length of the temple, his good humor evaporating. Brutus.

Having one of Caesar's most trusted men come over to him should have been a cause for rejoicing, Pompey knew. When Brutus had stepped ashore with his cohorts, the Greek legions had buzzed with the news and excitement. He had even saved the loyal members of the road guards from Caesar's anger and the younger soldiers walked in awe of the Gaul veteran. Brutus had given up a great deal to risk his life with Pompey and he deserved to be honored. If it were only so simple.

Pompey watched coldly as Brutus strode up the central aisle toward him. The silver armor had been burnished till it glowed. He saw Brutus had removed his sword as ordered, and took a deep breath as the general came close. He could feel Labienus's eyes on him, noting his reaction even as he tried to mask it.

Brutus saluted. "I am at your orders, sir," he said.

Pompey frowned at him, unable to remember if he had arranged a meeting, but unwilling to admit such a thing in front of either man. There had been a time when his mind was as sharp as that of anyone in Rome, but age had taken the edge off his memory as much as his physical strength. His shoulder seemed to ache more fiercely as a reminder. Some of this irritation could be heard in his tone as he replied.

"I have decided not to confirm your command of the Fifth legion, Brutus. Your cohorts will make up the numbers there and you will accept the orders of the Legate Selatis. I will watch you closely and if you do well… if I find you loyal, you will be quickly rewarded. You are dismissed."

Not a trace of disappointment showed on Brutus's face. It was almost as if he had expected the answer.