The warning shouts of Pompey's officers sent the Greek laborers harrying back to the protection of the city, tools littering the ground around them. Those grim soldiers who were left took positions as they were ordered, drawing swords and exchanging a few last words. They did not consider turning away, though the wind made them shiver as they waited.

"Hold until you are relieved," the senior centurion bellowed, making his voice carry. It was taken up further down the line and the defenders raised their shields and readied themselves. They all knew there would be no relief force, but it was strange how the words brought a little hope.

Caesar's legions came closer and closer, until faces could be seen despite the failing light. Both sides roared a challenge as the Gaul legions reached the last barrier to Dyrrhachium and forced their way through. The gaps in the wall vomited men and the defenders were cut down, their bodies tumbling. Julius's Tenth stormed through with barely a check on their speed, loping on toward the unprotected city.

Julius rode slowly through dark streets, struggling with exhaustion. A local man led the way with a gladius prodding his back, but it was still disconcerting to be so deep in a maze of streets that none of them had ever seen before.

Only the Tenth had been allowed into the inner city. The other six legions would see no more of it than the walls they manned. Julius was determined not to give them a loose rein in hostile territory. He still shuddered to remember a town in Gaul where he had lost control of his men. Whenever his heart was made to race by the thunder of a charge or the snap of flags in a stiff breeze, he would recall Avaricum and how the streets had looked with the coming of day. He would not allow such actions to be repeated under his command.

If any other man had led the Greek legions, Julius would have expected an assault in the night. Pompey's officers knew the city well and there could even have been entrances Julius had not seen. It was enough of a threat to keep his own men out of trouble on the walls, but he did not think Pompey would risk the lives he valued in Dyrrhachium. The days of reckless youth were behind for both of them.

His guide mumbled something in Greek and pointed to a wide gate set into a wall. A single lamp hung from a brass chain to light the entrance and Julius had the whimsical thought that it had been set there to welcome him. He gestured and two men with hammers stepped forward to break the lock. In the silent street, the sound was like a ringing bell and Julius could feel eyes on him from all the local houses. Possibilities swirled in his head and he took a deep breath of the night air, thinking of the enemy outside the walls of Dyrrhachium.

To fight a war with subtlety and propaganda was dangerously intoxicating. Julius seized on every tiny detail of Pompey's strengths and weaknesses, anything that might be used. He had sent men to undermine the Dictator in his own camp, knowing they could be killed. It was a vicious sort of war they had carried to Greece, but he had come too far and lost too much to lose it all.

His somber thoughts were interrupted as the gate fell with a clang on the stones of the street. The noise had woken the house and lamps were being lit inside, acting as a spark for the local inhabitants as they roused and sought light to banish terror.

As he had expected, the sound of marching feet came quickly behind the hammer blows and it was only moments before the space in the wall filled with grim soldiers. Julius did not speak at first, watching with professional interest as they locked their shields to prevent a sudden rush.

"You are late, gentlemen," he said, dismounting. "I could have been inside by now if I hadn't waited for you."

Five hundred of his Tenth were stretched along the street and he could feel their tension in the biting air. A single word from him and they would cut the defenders down. He looked into the eyes of the centurion guarding the gate and was intrigued to find no sign of fear there. The officer did not bother to answer and merely returned his stare. Pompey had chosen well.

"I am a consul of Rome," Julius said, taking a step forward. "Do not dare to block my way."

The men in the gateway shifted uncomfortably, the words pulling at everything they had been taught from childhood. The centurion blinked and Julius saw him reach out to one of the defenders, settling him.

"My orders are from Pompey, Consul," the centurion said. "This house is not to be touched."

Julius frowned. It would not be a good beginning for his new policies if he butchered decent men doing their duty. With the restrictions he had imposed on himself, it was an impasse.

"Will you allow me entry on my own? I will come unarmed," he said, stepping into range of the weapons held before him.

The centurion narrowed his eyes and Julius heard a hiss of breath from the soldiers of the Tenth. His legion would not like him walking into danger, but he could see no other choice.

A voice sounded from within the grounds. "Let me through!"

Julius smiled as he recognized it. A low murmur of protest came from somewhere out of sight.

"The man you have kept waiting is my father. I don't care what your orders are, you will let me through to him!"

Once again the soldiers at the gate shifted, this time in excruciating embarrassment. Julius laughed at their predicament.

"I don't think you can stop her coming out to me, can you, gentlemen? Will you lay hands on Pompey's own wife? I think not. My daughter walks where she chooses."

Though he spoke to all of them, his eyes held those of the centurion, knowing the decision was his. At last the man spoke a few curt words and the shields were pulled back.

Julia stood there, her son in her arms. Julius breathed in deeply and noticed the fragrance of the garden for the first time, as if she had brought the scent with her.

"Will you invite me in, Julia?" he asked, smiling.

Julia cast a scornful glance at the soldiers around the gate, still standing awkwardly. Her face was flushed and Julius thought his daughter had never looked more beautiful than in the light of the single lamp.

"You may stand down, Centurion," she said. "My father will be tired and hungry. Run to the kitchens and have refreshments brought."

The centurion opened his mouth, but she spoke again before he could voice any objection.

"I want the best sausage, fresh bread, hot wine from my husband's cellar, cheese and a little fruit."

The beleaguered soldier looked at father and daughter for a long moment before he gave up. With stiff dignity, he retreated at last.

"My home is yours, Consul," Julia said, and from the way her eyes sparkled, Julius knew she had enjoyed the clash of wills. "Your visit is an honor."

"You are kind, daughter," he replied, enjoying the mock formality. "Tell me, are the families of the Senate still in the city?"

"They are."

Julius turned to his men, noting the nervous figure of the Greek who had guided them in from the walls. The man shook with fear as Julius considered him.

"You will lead my men to the families," Julius said. "They will not be harmed, I swear it." The Greek bowed his head as Julius addressed his men. "Gather them…"

He paused to look at his daughter. "I do not know this city. Is there a Senate building, a meeting hall?"

"The temple of Jupiter is well known," Julia replied.

"That will do very well," Julius said. "Remember, gentlemen, that my honor protects them. I will hang you for a single bruise. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," his centurion replied for all of them.

"Send men to General Domitius and tell him to begin loading the supplies onto our carts. I want to be able to leave quickly in the morning."