Steven Saylor - Rubicon

"The enemy has been frustrated at every turn. A handful of veteran archers and slingers have successfully kept him away from the city walls. He has no ships. His efforts to block the harbor have proven futile. Typically, his ambition oversteps his ability. In the long run, he shall be sorry for it."

There was a murmur of laughter among the troops in the square. I had always been blind to whatever charm Pompey possessed, but these men seemed to appreciate it. Perhaps one had to be a military man.

"We are about to leave Italy and cross over the sea," Pompey continued. "Some of you may feel misgivings about this. Do not. We are moving forward, not falling back. Rome lies across the water now. We go to join her. A city is made of men, not buildings. We go to where the true heart of Rome resides, with the duly elected consuls. Let the enemy take over empty buildings if he wishes, and invest himself with whatever empty titles his imagination can devise. I think perhaps he has dwelled for too long north of the Rubicon, among primitive barbarians who worship kings. Having conquered those petty monarchs, he thinks he should become one himself. He should remember instead the fate of every despot who ever raised arms against the Senate and the people of Rome."

A murmur among the troops swelled into a cheer. Pompey cut it short by raising his hands. "Soldiers! Remember the first order of the day: Silence! The enemy's ear is pressed to the city gates. We must carry out this operation with an absolute minimum of noise. It starts now. Cohort commanders, begin evacuation!"

He gave a gesture to the officers behind him, like a circus master signaling the commencement of a race. As they moved forward, Pompey stepped back, withdrawing from the sight of the troops in the square like a golden deus ex machina disappearing at the theater.

The ranks of his retinue were thinned by the dispatch of the cohort commanders, and I was now able to spot Tiro, who walked to Pompey's side. The Great One's personal bodyguards closed around him. Among them I saw a lumbering hulk with a familiar gait. Even before he turned to show the profile of his boyish face, I knew it was Davus.

I tried to catch Tiro's eye, but he was busily conferring with Pompey. Suddenly I saw him gesture in my direction. Pompey nodded and turned. He looked straight at me, then stepped past his bodyguards and walked directly to me. The centurion beside me snapped to attention.

"I heard you shout at me earlier, Finder." Pompey sounded tired and irritable.

"Did you, Great One? You gave no sign."

"A trained orator lets nothing distract him. Tiro says you have news for me."

"Yes, Great One."

"Good. Centurion, don't you have evacuation orders?"

"Yes, Imperator."

"Then off with you!"

"Imperator, I should tell you that this man is armed. He's carrying a dagger. Shall I disarm him?"

Pompey managed a weary smile. "Worried about an assassination attempt, centurion? Killing people is hardly Gordianus's style. Is it, Finder?"

He didn't wait for me to answer, but dismissed the centurion and his men with a curt wave. "Come along, Finder. I suppose you'll want to say hello to that son-in-law of yours, since you dragged yourself across half of Italy to find him. I can't imagine why. I never met a fellow so thick. Hard to imagine that I once paid good silver for him."

I drew a deep breath. "And my report, Great One?"

He made a face. "Not here. Not now. Can't you see there's a fire at my feet? Save your report until we're safely on the water!"

"I can't believe it! I just can't believe it!"

"Davus, not so hard- you're squeezing the life out of me…"

"Sorry." Davus released me and stepped back. I reached up to rub my cheek, where the links of his mail shirt had pressed a tattoo into the soft flesh. Outfitted all in leather and steel, the sight of him was as overpowering as the hug he had just given me. Yet the broad grin across his face made him look as harmless as a child.

"I just can't believe it," he said again, laughing. "You came all this way, over the mountains and everything. How on earth did you get inside the city?"

"It's a long story, Davus. I'll tell you another time."

One of Pompey's officers gave a shout. He raised his arm and pointed at a tall building across the square. Up on the rooftop, someone was running back and forth, waving a torch.

Pompey squinted. "By Hades, you were right, Tiro. Damn these townspeople! That's a clear signal to Caesar to commence his attack. Scribonius, order an archer to shoot that man down."

The officer who had pointed stepped forward. "He's out of range, Imperator."

"Then send someone up there."

"The way to the roof will almost surely be blockaded, Imperator. Is it really worth our time-"

"Then send some archers onto a neighboring rooftop and shoot at him from there!"

"Imperator, the evacuation has begun. By the time our archers-"

"I don't care! Look at that ape, waving his torch, laughing at us. The men in the square can see. The brave soldiers manning the wall can see! Terrible for morale. I want that man's head. And bring me his hand, as well, with the torch still in it!"

Scribonius summoned archers, but in the next moment Pompey's order was rendered moot. All around the city, civilians appeared on rooftops. Some waved torches. Others danced in the flickering torchlight like celebrants at a festival. Pompey was furious.

"Damn these people! When I retake Brundisium, I shall burn the city to the ground. I'll sell every man, woman, and child into slavery!" He paced back and forth, gazing westward. Above the rooftops we could see the towers flanking the city gate. "Engineer Magius, has the gate been sufficiently blocked?"

Another officer stepped forward. "You know it has, Imperator. There are tons of rubble piled against it. No battering ram will budge it. The only way Caesar's men can get into the city is by climbing over the walls."

"Scribonius, will the line of archers and slingers along the parapet hold?"

"Every one's a seasoned veteran, Imperator. They'll hold."

At that moment, we heard the first sounds of battle carried across the cold air. There was only shouting at first, then the eerie echo of steel clanging against steel, and the dull boom of a battering ram.

The square below rapidly emptied. The last of the soldiers filed out in silence, heading for the ships. The forum grew dark except for glowing patches of light from open temple doors. I found myself wishing I understood Messapic. It seemed to me that the ululations from the temples had gradually changed tenor, from songs of terror and lamentation to songs of deliverance. The chants mixed with the distant sounds of battle.

There was a signal for Pompey's retinue to commence evacuation. Suddenly, everyone around me was moving down the steps. The officer called Scribonius handed Davus a torch and told him to follow as rear guard.

We headed toward the port by a different route than the one the centurion had taken earlier. This street was wider and the way more direct. I wondered that it hadn't been blockaded and said as much to Davus, who told me to wait and see. At the first intersection we came to, the engineer Magius called a brief halt. He and a few other men gripped some ropes hanging from the buildings on either side. In an instant, tons of rubble poured into the street behind us. An ingenious system of pulleys had been installed, connected to wooden sluices and caches full of debris stored in the upper floors of the buildings facing the street.

The same operation was repeated at the next intersection, and the next. Magius was blockading the street as we passed.

At other places, Magius gave a signal for caution and led the company in single file along one side of the street, keeping close to the wall. Trenches with spikes had been dug across the street and covered over. Only Magius knew exactly where they were and on which side to bypass them. The traps were impossible to see. In the darkness, the dirt spread above the wicker blinds blended imperceptibly with the rest of the street.