"Let us hope it does not come to that, Labienus," he said, more curtly than he had intended. "When Caesar comes, we may be able to break his forces without hiding from them."

Labienus's cold eyes went hard at the implication, unsure whether he should react to the perceived insult or not. In the end, he shrugged. "As you say," he replied. He signaled to a personal guard of a century to fall out and escort him back to the city. The rest stood impassively by the river, shivering in the wind.

Brutus was pleased enough not to play his games any longer and he saluted Labienus, noting the man's relief as he returned the gesture.

"Tell Pompey I will obey his orders and that I thank him for the men," Brutus said.

Labienus nodded as he mounted his horse once more and their eyes locked as if Labienus thought he could discern loyalty by the intensity of his gaze. At last, he wheeled his mount and rode stiffly back to the city.

As the galleys reached the docks, the spiked corvus bridges came crashing down, followed immediately by the soldiers of Julius's legions. The galleys in the port were wedged in place before they could escape and many of the men who jumped onto Greek soil did so from their decks. Julius's men flooded ashore, killing the crews with merciless efficiency and moving on.

Oricum became jammed as they forced their way inland. The port town was manned by a thousand legionaries in billets and those were the first to be overwhelmed. Some of them managed to light signal fires of green wood and the plumes of smoke soared upwards to alert the country. Julius did not allow his men to show mercy before they were well established, and that first thousand were cut to pieces in the streets of Oricum.

The three galleys that had sighted their fleet had not attempted to land, but turned north to take word of the invasion. Julius knew he had to use the surprise attack to its utmost advantage. If he had had more men waiting to come across, he might have secured a safe area around the port. As it was, Julius had thrown his entire force at the coast. He needed to be mobile and chafed at every moment of delay as the heavy equipment began to be winched out of the galleys. He was safe from the sea for the present. No other force could land easily behind him, with his galleys blocking the port. When the last ballistae and scorpion bows had been lifted out, he ordered them all sunk, choking it completely.

Before the sun had reached its noon zenith, the veterans were ready to march inland. Spires of smoke rose from the port town around them, smudging the clear air as they waited in perfect rows and columns. Julius looked at them with pride and dropped his arm to signal the horns to sound.

The streets had given way to scrub fields by the time they saw the first of Pompey's legions in full array in the distance. The veterans of Gaul roared their challenge and there was no reluctance in them. Who could have guessed how they would feel when they sighted a Roman legion as an enemy? Julius saw the feral interest as the legionaries watched the moving force in the distance. Wolf brothers could tear each other to pieces, regardless of shared blood.

Whoever commanded the five thousand men clearly rejected the opportunity to have them destroyed by such an overwhelming force. Even as Julius watched, the heavy column changed direction and headed north. Julius laughed aloud at the thought of the consternation in those ranks. They had not expected him and now it was too late. He slapped his horse's neck in excitement, looking around at a country he had not seen for decades.

The land was bare in winter, with twisted trees bereft of their foliage and thin grass clinging to the soil. The stony earth was a dry dust that he remembered from fighting Mithridates many years before. Even the air smelled subtly different to Rome or Gaul. This was a hard land, where life had to be brought carefully into being. It was a good place to go to war. As he cast his eyes along the colorful lines of his legions, Julius thought of Alexander before him and straightened in the saddle.

His gelding was skittish as he rode along the silent ranks. One by one, he greeted his generals. Some, like Octavian, Domitius, Ciro, and Regulus, he had known for years. Others had proved themselves in Gaul and been promoted after Brutus's betrayal. They were good men and he felt his confidence soar. It seemed a dream to be actually on Greek soil, with the land opening up before them. He was back in his most natural element and all the stifling subterfuge of political Rome could be left behind. Flags snapped and fluttered in a winter breeze that could not cool the pleasure he felt to be at last in reach of his enemy. Pompey had almost twice as many men under his command, with the advantage of fighting on land they knew and had prepared. Let them come, Julius thought. Let them try us.

Pompey paced the central length of the temple he had made his headquarters, his hands clasped tightly at his back. All other sound had ceased and his iron-shod sandals threw back a perfect single echo from the walls, as if his footsteps were stalked by an unseen enemy.

"So he is among us," he said. "Despite the vaunted promises of my captains, he slips through them and takes Oricum from my control. He strikes at the heart of the coast and meets nothing more than a token resistance! Tell me again how this is possible!"

His last steps brought him face to face with Labienus, who stood at the entrance to the temple. His expression was as hard to read as ever, but he sought to soothe his commander's anger.

"There were good reasons not to expect him to cross in winter, sir. He gained the length of darkness he needed to avoid the fleet, but the ground is barren."

Pompey gestured for him to continue, a spark of interest showing in his eyes.

Labienus cleared his throat. "He has risked a great deal to make a secure landing, sir. Until the spring crops have ripened, his men, his pack animals must survive on nothing more than they brought with them. At best, they can have two weeks' rations in dried meal and meat. After that, they will grow weak. The decision could only have been made in desperation, sir. He will regret it."

Pompey's eyes seemed to darken as fury overtook him once more. "How many times have I heard that he has overreached himself? Yet still he seems to go on, while my advisers tell me he should be long dead. His luck is uncanny, Labienus."

"Sir, we have his measure. I have ordered our fleet to block the coast behind him. He cannot be supplied by sea. No matter how lucky he is, he cannot put grain that doesn't exist into the stomachs of seven legions. Perhaps if he were left unchallenged, he could raid the cities to steal food, but when we are there to harry his flank, he will command slowly starving men."

"Oh I shall be there, Labienus. Gather our legions ready to move against him. I will not let him roam Greece as if he owns it!"

"Yes, sir," Labienus replied swiftly, pleased to have been given the order after an hour of enduring Pompey's temper. He saluted and turned to leave, but Pompey's voice interrupted once again.

"Be sure that Brutus is there to be seen by all of Caesar's followers," Pompey said, his voice strained. "He will prove loyal or be cut down."

Labienus nodded. "My own legion will never be far from him, sir. There are men I trust to contain him if he is false." He would have left then, but could not help but voice the concern that nagged at him. "It would be easier, sir, if he had only the cohorts he arrived with. The extra thousand you gave him will be an obstacle if he turns against your authority."

Pompey looked away from his general's coolly assessing eyes. "If he honors his oath to me, they will play a key part in the conflict to come. I would be a fool to hamstring the man who knows Caesar's tactics best of all with only two cohorts. The decision is final, Labienus."