Conn Iggulden - The Death Of Kings

Julius thought he had seen busy ports in Africa and Greece, but Ariminum was the center of the grain trade across the country and the docks were crammed with ships loading and unloading cargoes. There was even a central forum and temples for the soldiers to make their peace and pray for safe delivery in the coming conflict. It was a little Rome, built on the edge of the great Po plain and the gateway to the south. Everything from the north that ended up in Rome passed first through Ariminum.

Crassus and Pompey had commandeered a private home on the edge of the forum, and it was to this that Julius made his way on the second night, having to ask directions more than once. He traveled with ten of the Primigenia soldiers as a precaution in a strange city, but the inhabitants seemed too concerned with trade to have time for plots or politics. Whether the huge force camped in a ring around the city troubled them, he could not tell. The ships and grain caravans went in and out and business continued without interruption, as if the only threat of war was the possibility of raised prices in the markets.

Julius passed easily through the rushing crowds with his men, listening to their chatter as they struck deals while walking, barely noticing the soldiers they stepped around. Perhaps they were right to feel secure, he thought. With the two northern legions they had met at the city, the assembled army approached forty thousand seasoned soldiers. It was difficult to imagine a force that they couldn't handle, for all the shock the Spartacus rebellion had caused after running amok at Mutina.

He found the right place by the sentries that guarded the steps up to the door. Typical of Crassus to find such an opulent house, Julius thought with a smile. For all his personal restraint, he loved to be surrounded by beautiful things. Julius wondered if the true owner would find a couple of empty spaces amongst his treasures when the Romans had left. He remembered Marius saying Crassus could be trusted with anything except art.

Julius was guided in by a soldier and entered a room dominated by a creamy statue of a naked girl. Crassus and Pompey had planted chairs at her feet and more seats in a ring facing them.

Six of the eight legates were already there, and as the last two entered, Julius sat with his hands on his lap and waited. The last to enter was Lepidus, who had accepted the body of Mithridates from him in Greece. It felt like a lifetime ago, but the man still had the same bland, unconcerned expression as he nodded to Julius vaguely and began to clean the nails of one hand with the other.

Pompey leaned forward, the back legs of his chair leaving the floor.

“From this point on, gentlemen, I will expect to see you every night after the sentries are posted. Rather than have a vulnerable line of four camps, I have given orders for only two, with four legions in each. You should be close enough to reach the command position two hours before each midnight.”

There was a murmur of interest from the legates as they digested this. Pompey continued over it.

“The latest reports suggest the slave army is heading north as fast as they can. Crassus and I believe there is a danger they will reach the Alps mountains and Gaul. If we cannot catch them before then, they will disappear. Gaul is vast and we have little influence there. They must not be allowed to win free, or next year will see another rebellion of every slave still on Roman lands. The destruction and loss of life would be huge.”

He paused for comment, but the assembled generals were silent, watching him. One or two glanced at Crassus, clearly wondering about the Senate command, but Pompey's companion was sitting relaxed in his chair, nodding as Pompey rattled through the points.

“Your orders are to march west along the plains road until I give the signal to cut north. It's a longer route overall, but we'll make better speed on the road than across country. I want thirty miles a day, then twenty, then another thirty.”

“For how long?” Lepidus interrupted.

Pompey froze and let the silence show his irritation.

“Our best estimates are for five hundred miles west and then some distance north that we cannot gauge without knowing the exact whereabouts of the enemy. It depends, of course, on how close to the mountains they get. I expect-”

“It can't be done,” Lepidus said flatly.

Pompey paused again, then stood to look down on the general.

“I am telling you what will happen, Lepidus. If your legion cannot match the pace of the others under my command, then I will remove your rank and give it to someone who can make them march.”

Lepidus spluttered in indignation. Julius wondered if he had been told how close he had come to outright control of the legions. But for a few votes in the Senate, their positions would have been reversed. Watching Lepidus closely, Julius suspected he knew that very well indeed. No doubt Cato had let the word slip out to him while they gathered in the Campus Martius, in the hopes of fomenting trouble later.

“My men have covered three hundred miles at a hard pace on this trip already, Pompey. They could do it again, but I'll need two weeks to rest them and no more than twenty, twenty-five miles a day afterward. Any more will lose men.”

“Then we lose men!” Pompey snapped. “Every day we wait in Ariminum is another that brings this Spartacus closer to the mountains and freedom in Gaul. I am not staying here for a day longer than it takes to load up provisions. If we have a few dozen sprains and limps by the end, it is a price worth paying. Or even a few hundred, if it is the difference between catching them and watching them escape punishment for the Roman blood on their hands. Nine thousand dead at Mutina!” Pompey's voice had risen to a shout and he leaned toward Lepidus, who looked back with an infuriating calm.

“Who is in command here?” Lepidus demanded, waving a hand toward Crassus. “I was given to understand that it was Crassus the Senate chose over me. I do not recognize this business of ‘second-in-command.' Is it even legal?”

The other legates did not miss the point that Lepidus could have led, any more than Julius did. Like cats, they watched the speakers with claws carefully hidden, waiting for the outcome. Crassus too rose from his seat to stand beside Pompey.

“Pompey speaks with my voice, Lepidus, and that is the voice of the Senate. Whatever you may have heard, you should know better than to question the command.”

Pompey's face was tight with anger. “I tell you now, Lepidus. I will have you stripped of rank the first moment you make a mistake. Question an order of mine again and I will have you killed and left on the road. Understood?”

“Completely,” Lepidus replied, apparently satisfied.

Julius wondered what he had hoped to gain by the exchange. Did the legate hope to undermine Crassus? Julius knew he could not serve under such a man, no matter how he twisted and turned to gain authority. The threat Pompey had made was a dangerous one. If Lepidus commanded the kind of personal loyalty Julius had seen with Primigenia and Marius, then Pompey had taken a risk. In Pompey's position, Julius thought it would have been better to have Lepidus killed immediately and his legion sent back to Rome in shame. Losing the men was a lighter penalty than marching with ones who might betray them.

“We will march in two days, at dawn,” Pompey said. “I have spies out already on the road with orders to meet the main force when we get close. Tactics for the battle will have to wait on better information. You are dismissed. Tribune Caesar, I'd like a word with you, if you could stay.”

Lepidus stood with the other legates, beginning a conversation with two of them as they passed out of the room. Before their voices had faded, Julius heard him laugh at some witticism and saw Pompey stiffen in irritation.