"If they don't stop soon, they will be spending the night in the open," Pompey said irritably. "Half of them will freeze to death."

He squinted through the shadows of trees into the distance, though there was nothing visible. The enemy had vanished in the gloom, but the most distant of the scouting riders still reported their progress back down the line. Pompey clenched his jaw against the cold and wondered if this too was a test. Perhaps Julius was hoping to lose them, or simply march them to death over the Greek plains.

"They may have already prepared a camp, sir," Labienus said.

His lips were numb and he knew Pompey would have to let the men rest or start seeing them drop. He smothered any sign of his irritation as Pompey rode on as if unaware of the suffering of those around him. He did not want to prompt his commander, but if they did not make camp soon they risked losing the edge they had worked so hard to gain.

The sound of galloping hooves distracted both men from their thoughts and the cold. "They have halted, sir!" the scout reported. "A small party are riding toward us."

Pompey raised his head like a dog with a scent. "How many?" he demanded.

Even in the last gray light, Labienus could see the scout was frozen to the point of barely staying in the saddle. He moved his own horse closer and took the reins from the younger man's stiff fingers. "Your general asked you how many were coming," he said.

The scout blinked, summoning his wits. "Three, sir, under a flag of truce," he replied.

"Order a hostile camp, Labienus," Pompey said, at last. "I want high walls around us by the time they arrive. No doubt they will report every detail to Caesar on their return. Let there be nothing out of place." He paused and straightened his back to conceal his discomfort. "Send my physician to me. I need a little of his chalk and milk to settle my stomach."

Labienus sent men running to fulfill the order. Weary and cold as they were, the army of fifty thousand would make short work of the walled camps. It was almost second nature to them after so long in training, and he was pleased as the squares began to take shape. The sound of axes chopping into trees was as familiar as home to him, and he began to relax. Pompey had left it late, Labienus acknowledged to himself. Part of the work would be finished in the dark and there would be accidents.

The three men Caesar had sent to speak to Pompey worried him far more. What was there to say at this late stage? It could not be to surrender before a single spear had been thrown in anger. Labienus grimaced in the gloom as he considered sending a few of his cavalry out to make the group disappear. He did not fear the consequences, knowing that if the bodies were well hidden, Pompey would think it had been a ruse, or a delaying tactic. Labienus had loyal men he could trust to kill them in the dark and then it would just be another tiny mystery, quickly forgotten.

The alternative was to feed what he now saw as Pompey's fear of this enemy. The confidence that had drawn Labienus to him on their first meetings seemed to have vanished with the news of the landing at Oricum. Labienus had seen the way he pressed a hand into his stomach, and he feared the sickness was affecting more than his health and temper. Pompey had aged before them all and Labienus was faced with a role as second in command that went far beyond anything he had expected.

He was on the point of calling men he knew over to him when one of the scouts reported. The three riders had reached the mile perimeter and were being escorted in. Labienus let his hand fall, irritated that his own hesitation had stolen the chance. Perhaps that was the secret of Caesar's genius, he thought, a wry smile tugging at his mouth. Those who faced him tied themselves in knots guessing what he would try next. Labienus wondered if he would prove as vulnerable as Pompey seemed to be and took heart from the city of soldiers they had brought out of the north. No matter what cleverness Caesar summoned to the field, he had never faced Roman legions in their full strength. Gaul would not have prepared him for their onslaught.

By the time the three riders appeared out of the darkness, the camps were taking shape. Thousands of legionaries had dug trenches and banked earth to the height of two men. Every tree for miles around had been cut and pegged, sawn and strapped into place. Banks of earth and grass sod buttressed the columns, proof against fire and enemy missiles. They built fortresses out of nothing in just hours, havens of order and safety in the wilderness. Torches stood on iron stands all around the camp and lit the night in flickering yellow. Labienus could smell meat cooking on the night wind and his empty stomach creaked. His own needs would have to wait a little longer and he forced down his body's weakness.

He waited for the three riders as they were passed through the scout lines into the camp, noting the insignia of the Tenth legion and their centurion's armor. Julius had sent senior men to speak to Pompey, Labienus observed. They had been forced to walk through the defensive rings with drawn blades at their backs. Labienus watched them with narrowed eyes. At his order, their horses were taken and the three soldiers quickly surrounded.

Labienus walked across the frozen ground toward them. They exchanged a glance as he approached, and their leader spoke first.

"We have come at the order of Gaius Julius Caesar, consul of Rome," he said. The centurion stood confidently as if he were not ringed with men willing to cut him down at the first sudden move.

"You seem a little blunt for diplomacy, soldier," Labienus replied. "Speak your message, then. I have a meal waiting."

The centurion shook his head. "Not to you, Labienus. The message is for Pompey."

Labienus regarded the men, his face showing nothing of his irritation. He had not missed the fact that his name was known to them and wondered how many spies Caesar had in Greece. He really should have had them killed before they had reached his position, Labienus thought ruefully.

"You may not approach the general with weapons, gentlemen," he said.

They nodded, and removed swords and daggers, letting them fall at their feet. The wind howled around them and the nearest torches fluttered madly.

"Remove the rest of your clothes and I will have more brought to you."

The three men looked angry, but they did not resist and were soon shivering and naked. Their skins showed each of them had fought for years, collecting a web of scars. The man who had spoken had a particularly fine collection and Labienus thought Caesar must have excellent healers for him to have survived. They stood without embarrassment and Labienus felt a touch of admiration at how they refused to hunch against the cold. Seeing their arrogance, he considered ordering a more intimate search, but decided against it. Pompey would be wondering about the delay as it was.

Slaves brought rough wool shifts, which the centurions draped over their skins, already turning blue.

Labienus examined their sandals for anything unusual and then shrugged and tossed them back.

"Escort them to camp one-to the command tent," he said.

He watched their faces closely, but the men were as impassive as the soldiers around them. Labienus knew his meal would have to wait a little longer. He was too curious to find out why Caesar would send valuable men to such a meeting.

Camp one contained eleven thousand soldiers and the key links in the command chain. It was surrounded by four others of similar size, so that from above they would look like the petals of a flower drawn by a child. Three roads crossed the heart of the camp and as Labienus walked along the Via Principalis toward Pompey's command tent, he noted how the centurions took in every detail around them. He frowned at the thought that they would carry their observations back to an enemy and once again considered having them quietly dispatched. Rather than waste another chance, he broke away from the escort and gave quick instructions to a tribune from his own Fourth legion. Without hesitation, the man saluted and went to gather a dozen others for the task. Labienus hurried along the main road to catch up with Caesar's men, feeling better about their mission.