“No, it isn’t,” Domitius said. “The men would not accept it from us, and not from you. Let them come,

Caesar. We will destroy them again.”

“He speaks for me,” Renius added, and the others nodded. Brutus and Mark Antony joined the voices and Octavian rose to his feet. Despite their tired faces, there was determination there still. Julius smiled at their loyalty.

“Then we will stand or fall at Alesia, gentlemen. I am proud to have known you all. If this is where the gods say it ends, then let it be so. We will fight to the last.”

Julius scratched the bristles on his face and smiled ruefully.

“Perhaps we should use a little of the drinking water to look like Romans for tomorrow. Bring me my maps. We will make plans to humble the tribes one more time.”

Vercingetorix stood at the high walls of Alesia, looking out over the plain. He had rushed up to the windswept heights at the first reports from his watchmen, and he gripped the crumbling stone fiercely as he saw a mass of torches moving toward them.

“Is it Madoc?” Brigh asked eagerly.

The king looked at his youngest brother and held his shoulder in a sudden burst of affection. “Who else would it be? He has brought the armies of Gaul to sweep them away.” With a glance around him, he leaned his head close. “The princes of the Arverni are hard men to defeat, are we not?”

Brigh grinned at him. “I had begun to lose hope. There’s not more than a month of food left…”

“Tell the men to eat well tonight, then. Tomorrow we will see the Romans broken and then we will cut our way out past their forts and walls and reclaim Gaul from them. We will see no more of these legions for a generation.”

“And you will be king?” Brigh asked.

Vercingetorix laughed. “I am king, little brother. King of a greater nation. Now the tribes remember the call of blood, there is nothing in the world to hold us down. Dawn will end it and then we will be free.”

The first gray light revealed a camp of Gaulish horsemen that stretched for three miles across the land.

As the legions awoke, they heard a dim and tinny cheering from the great linked forts of Alesia as the inhabitants saw those who had come to relieve them.

The morning was cold, despite the promise of summer. The food that had been brought in from the Roman province at the foot of the Alps was prepared and handed out on tin plates, the first hot meal in days for many of the men. With the Gauls arrayed before them, they ate without joy and the plates emptied too quickly. Many of the men licked them clean for the last scrap of sustenance.

The Roman fortifications around Alesia were high enough to give the Gauls pause as they considered the best manner of attack. The walls reached twenty feet and were manned by forty thousand of the best foot soldiers in the world. It was no easy task, even with the colossal numbers Madoc had assembled.

Madoc did not know himself how many were with him, just that he had never seen such an army gathered in one place. Even then, he was cautious, as Vercingetorix had told him to be when he escaped from Alesia to summon the tribes.

“Remember the Helvetii,” Vercingetorix had said.

Even when vastly outnumbered, the Romans had beaten every army sent against them, and those who still lived were veterans and survivors, the ones hardest to kill. Madoc wished his brother was out there to direct the horsemen. He could feel the scrutiny and hope of the defenders in the Alesia forts, and it intimidated him. He knew by then that his brother was a better king than he would have been. Madoc alone could not have bound the tribes together, more closely than they had known for a thousand years.

Old disputes had been forgotten and in the end they had all sent their best men to aid the High King and break the back of the Roman occupation.

Now it all depended on his word, and tens of thousands waited on him as the sun rose.

Julius climbed a hill to address the men he had fought with for nine years in Gaul. He knew hundreds by name, and as he reached the crest and steadied himself against the base of the watchtower, he saw familiar faces waiting for him to speak. Did they know how weary he was? He had shared the privations of the march and the battles across Gaul. They had seen him push himself further than any of them, going without sleep for days at a time until there was nothing left in him but an iron will that kept him on his feet.

“I will not ask you to fight for Rome!” he roared out to them. “What does Rome know of us here? What does the Senate understand of what we are? The merchants in their houses, the slaves, the builders, and the whores have not been with us in our battles. When I think of Rome, I cannot think of them, so far away. My brothers are those I see before me.”

The words came easily in front of the legions. He knew them all and a thin cheer began as they gazed up at the scarlet-cloaked figure. He could not have explained the bond to a stranger, but that had never been necessary. They knew him for what he was. They had seen him injured with them and exhausted after a march. Each man there had a memory of when he had spoken to them that they treasured more than the silver coins they were paid.

“I will not ask you to fight this last time for Rome. I will ask it for me,” he said, and they lifted their heads higher to hear him, the cheering swelling in the ranks.

“Who dares to call themselves Rome while we live? The city is just stone and marble without us. We are its blood and its life. We are its purpose.” Julius swept a hand out to the massed hordes of the Gaulish army.

“What an honor it is to have so many come against us! They know our strength, my legions. They know we are unbreakable in spirit. I tell you, if I could change places and be out there, I would be afraid of what I see before me. I would be terrified. For they are not us. Alexander would be proud to walk with you as I do.

He would be proud to see your swords raised in his name.” He looked down at the crowd and saw Renius there, staring at him.

“When our hearts and arms are tired, we go on,” Julius roared at them. “When our stomachs are empty and our mouths dry, we go on.”

He paused again and smiled down at them.

“Now, gentlemen, we are professionals. Shall we cut these bastard amateurs to pieces?”

They clashed their swords and shields together and every throat bellowed their approval.

“Man the walls! They are coming!” Brutus shouted, and the legions ran to their positions. They stood straight as Julius climbed down and walked amongst them, proud of them all.

Madoc felt a touch of fear as he saw the full extent of the Roman lines around Alesia. When he had escaped only a month before, the first trenches were being dug into the clay, and now the walls were solid and manned with soldiers.

“Light torches to burn their gates and towers!” he ordered, seeing the lines of light spring up amongst the tribes. The crackle of flames was the sound of war, and he felt his heart race faster in response. Still he worried as he looked over the vast fortifications that crouched on the land and waited for them. The speed of the Gaulish horses would be wasted against such a barrier. If the Romans could not be tempted out,

Madoc knew each step would be bloody.

“Spears ready!” he called down the line. He felt thousands of eyes on him as he drew his long sword and pointed it at the Roman forces. His beloved Arverni were ready on the right flank, and he knew they would follow his orders. He wished he could be as sure of the others in the heat of battle. As soon as they began to die, Madoc feared they would lose what little discipline he had been able to impose.

He raised his fist and brought it down in a sharp movement, kicking his horse into a gallop to lead them in. Behind him came a thunder that drowned out all other sound, and then the Gauls roared. The horses flew toward the walls and every hand held a spear ready to throw.