Conn Iggulden - The Death Of Kings

“Remember this!” Pompey bellowed at the men. “You ran from slaves where no legion has run in generations. Lay your swords down and complete your task.”

The lines dissolved as each man standing apart was surrounded by nine of his friends and brothers. Julius heard one of them muttering an apology before he landed the first blow. It was worse than anything Julius had ever seen. Though the optios had staffs, the common soldiers had only their fists to smash the faces and chests of people they had known for years. Some of them sobbed as they struck, their faces twisted like children, but not a single one of them refused.

It took a long time. Some of the battered soldiers died quickly, their throats crushed, but others lingered on and on, shuddering and screaming in a terrible chorus that made Brutus shiver as he watched, transfixed by the knots of bloody-handed men, kicking and punching savagely. Brutus shook his head in disbelief, then looked away, sickened. He saw Renius was standing rigidly, his face pale.

“I never thought I would see this again,” Renius muttered to himself. “I thought it had died out long ago.”

“It had,” Julius replied flatly. “Looks like Pompey's revived it.”

Ciro watched in horror, his shoulders sagging. He looked at Julius questioningly, but there were no words for him.

Julius watched as the last blows were struck and the centurions checked each corpse. The men stood back, their energy disappearing as they shambled into ranks. The bodies sprawled before them in circles of bloody grass, and many of the living bore the spatters of the executions, standing with their heads bowed in misery.

“If we were in Rome, I would order you disbanded and forbidden to bear arms,” Pompey roared into the silence. “As it is, circumstances may save you yet.” He glanced at Crassus and the senator shifted in his saddle. Julius frowned suddenly. For Pompey to give way to Crassus meant that he needed the weight of the Senate authority behind whatever was going to be said. For all their maneuvering, only Crassus had that. The older man cleared his throat to speak.

“It is my order that a new legion be formed, to expunge the stain of Lepidus. You will join with Primigenia and make a new history. Your standards will be changed. You will have a new name, untouched by shame. I appoint Gaius Julius Caesar to command you. I speak with the authority of the Senate.”

Crassus wheeled his horse and trotted over to where Julius stood, glaring at him.

“Will they be Primigenia, then?” Julius asked harshly.

Crassus shook his head. “I know what it will do to you, Julius, but this is the better way. If they take arms for you, they will always be apart as they are now. A new name will clear the field for them… and for you. Pompey and I have agreed. Obey your orders. Primigenia ends today.”

Julius couldn't speak with anger for a moment, and Crassus watched him closely, waiting for a response. The younger man understood what they were trying to do, but still the memory of Marius haunted his thoughts. Understanding this, Crassus leaned down and spoke softly so as not to be overheard.

“Your uncle would understand, Julius. Be sure of that.”

Julius clenched his jaw and nodded sharply, unable to trust himself to speak. He owed a great deal to this man. Crassus leaned back, relaxing.

“You will need a new name for them. Pompey thought it should be-”

“No,” Julius interrupted. “I have a name for them.”

Crassus raised his eyebrows in surprise as Julius walked around his horse and faced the bloody men he was to command. He took a deep breath to send his voice out to as many as could hear him.

“I will take your oaths, if you will give them. I remember that you did not desert the field, but rallied when I asked it of you, even with Lepidus dead.” He let his gaze fall to the broken bodies all along the ranks. “The price for the failure has been paid and will never be mentioned again after today. But it must be remembered.”

The silence was terrible and the air smelled of blood.

“You are marked with the lives of every tenth man. I name you the Tenth, so you will never forget the payment taken and you will never break.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Julius saw Crassus grimace at the name, but he had known from the first moment that it was the right choice. It would hold them through fear and pain when others lost their nerve.

“Primigenia! My last command to you. Form ranks with your brothers. Look at their faces and learn their names. Know this. When men hear the Tenth stand against them, they will be afraid, for they have paid their dues in their own blood.”

As the ranks re-formed, Julius walked back to Crassus as Pompey joined the senator. Both generals looked at Julius with guarded interest.

“You speak… well to them, Julius,” Pompey said. He shook his head slightly as he watched Primigenia welcomed into the ranks. He had thought Julius would resist the order for the sake of Primigenia's name and had been prepared to force the issue. Watching the ease with which the young commander had assimilated the news and made it work for him was a surprise. For the first time, Pompey had a glimpse of how the young man had been so successful in Greece against Mithridates and the pirates before him. He seemed to know the words to use and that they could bite with greater force than swords.

“I would like to extend the time in camp before we move on, sir. It will give me a chance to speak with the men as well as let them finish their food and get some sleep.”

Pompey was tempted to refuse the request. Apart from the driving need to pursue the slaves, his instincts warned him not to make things too easy for the young man who could speak directly to the hearts of the soldiers and lift them from misery in an instant. Then he relented. Caesar would need every advantage if he was to resurrect the dignity of the new legion from the ashes.

“You may tell them I have granted two further hours at your request, Julius. Be ready to march at sunset.”

“Thank you, sir. I will arrange for new shields and armor for the men as soon as we are finished with this rebellion.”

Pompey nodded absently, signaling to Crassus to ride away to the command position further up at the head of the column. Julius watched them go, his face unreadable. He turned to Brutus and found Cabera with him, something of the old life and interest in the healer's face. Julius smiled tightly.

“Brutus, stand them down and tell them to finish eating. Then I want to speak to as many as I can before they sleep. Marius would have learned their names. So will I.”

“It hurts to see Primigenia lost,” Brutus murmured.

Julius shook his head. “They are not lost. The name will remain on the Senate rolls. I will make sure of it. Pompey and Crassus were right to make a new start, though it does hurt. Come on, gentlemen, let us walk amongst the Tenth. It's time to let go of the past.”

Ariminum stood under a pall of smoke. The slave army had moved through it like locusts, taking everything that could be eaten and driving sheep and cattle to run before them on the march. While citizens hid behind barricaded doors, Spartacus and his army walked slowly through quiet streets with the sun casting weak shadows behind them. They set fires in the grain stores and abandoned markets, knowing their pursuers might waste time stamping them out before following. With the legion still doggedly on their heels, every hour was crucial.

The guards had run from the city treasury, and Spartacus ordered the gold loaded onto mules for the journey south. It was a fortune from trade, and the dream of a fleet of ships to take them to freedom became reality as soon as the gladiators saw the crates of coins.