John Roberts - The Seven Hills

Of far more concern to him than the weakening resolve of Thapsus was the word that had come to him that morning by one of his swift intelligence cutters. The two eccentric Greek philosophers had come to his command tent with the story of Norbanus's remarkable battle, and of his no less ominous speech to the soldiers afterward.

"Do you think he's making a bid for the dictatorship?" he asked Flaccus.

"He'd better, if he wants to save his head. The Senate will see him as nothing but a tyrant in the making now, because he's challenged their privileges. It's brilliant, you know."

"All too well," Scipio agreed. "All the more so because he's absolutely right. He foresaw what would happen to those soldiers and he turned it to his own purposes. They don't serve Rome now. They serve him. He will be their benefactor and they will be his private army. And there's more."

"What else?" Flaccus asked. He had put on weight in Egypt, and when they set out, he had had to let out the straps of his cuirass to accommodate his expanded girth. Now, after weeks of rigorous campaigning, it almost fit again.

"He spoke to them of Africa, so as not to inflame the Senate utterly. But you and I know he was thinking of Egypt. If he can take Egypt, he'll be the richest and most powerful man in the world. We have to keep Egypt out of his hands-out of any Roman hands. We can't allow that sort of concentration of wealth and power in one man. From now on, Rome must support Selene and the House of Ptolemy, but from a distance."

Flaccus scratched his head, itchy from wearing his helmet all day. "We weren't thinking about this sort of thing when we crossed the Alps, were we?"

"We were not. Sometimes I wish we had stayed in Noricum and forgot about regaining our old empire. This may cost us what made us good Romans in the first place."

Flaccus shrugged. "I don't want to remain in the cold North anymore. I've gotten used to the good life on the sea. Besides, there's no help for it. This was clearly the will of the gods. The times have changed. Rome and we will just have to accommodate to the new world."

"So we must," Marcus agreed. Once more he looked at the papyrus the Greeks had given him. It was a personal letter to him from Titus Norbanus, and very brief. He read the few words again: I will meet you at the walls of Carthage. Let the gods decide there.