Pompey didn’t answer. The two men watched the senators disappear inside the Curia and the distant bronze doors swing closed behind them. The excited crowds remained, milling and shouting under the grim eyes of Pompey’s soldiers. Though the funeral procession had ended, the younger citizens especially had been infected by the display and were reluctant to leave. Pompey hoped his centurions would have the sense not to be too harsh with them. With Rome in that mood, a riot could spring from the slightest spark.

At last, Pompey spoke, his voice bitter. “They blocked me at every turn, Crassus. Even when I had the whole Senate with me, the whoreson tribunes stood up and vetoed my legislation. They set themselves against me. Why should I not put my own men into their positions? At least now I don’t have my work ruined for some petty point or whim.”

Crassus looked at his colleague, noting the changes in him over the previous year. Dark pouches had swollen under his eyes and he looked exhausted. It had not been an easy period, and with the citizens testing the strength of their leaders, Crassus was pleased enough to be free of the constant wrangling.

Pompey had aged under the responsibility and Crassus wondered if he secretly regretted the bargain he had struck. Julius had Gaul, Crassus his fleet of ships and his precious legion. Pompey had the struggle of his life, begun on the first day in Senate when he had forced through a bill with Julius’s proxy.

The Senate had borne the change in power well enough at first, but then the factions had begun to form, and with new men like the merchants Clodius and Milo entering the Senate, it had become a dangerous game for all of them. Rumors had spread that Bibilus had been killed or mutilated, and twice the Senate had demanded he be shown alive to them and made to explain his absence. Pompey had allowed them to send letters to the consul, but Julius’s word had been good. Bibilus had not come and visitors to his house found it barred and dark.

After two debates had come close to violence, Pompey had his soldiers stand guard over the sessions, ignoring the protests of the senators. Now they paraded their dissatisfaction in front of the people, making the dispute public. Though Crassus found Pompey’s fury amusing, he worried for what would come of it.

“No man rules Rome alone, my friend,” Crassus murmured.

Pompey glanced sharply at him. “Show me the laws I have broken! My tribunes are appointed rather than elected. They were never meant to bring the work of the Senate to a complete halt, and now they do not.”

“The balance in the system has been altered, Pompey. It is not a minor change you have brought about.

The tribunes were the voice of the mob. You risk a great deal in altering that. And the Senate are discovering new teeth if they act together against you,” Crassus replied.

Pompey’s shoulders slumped in weariness, but Crassus felt no sympathy. The man went at politics as if every problem could be met head-on. He was a fine general but a poor leader of a city, and the last one to know that truth was apparently Pompey himself. The very fact that he had asked to meet Crassus privately was proof of the problems Pompey faced, even though he would not ask outright for advice.

“They were meant to limit the power of the Senate, Pompey. Perhaps they were wrong to block you so completely, but replacing them has earned you nothing but anger in the city.”

Pompey flushed again and Crassus continued quickly, trying to make him understand. “If you restore their posts to the vote, you will regain a great deal of the ground you have lost,” he urged. “The factions will believe they have won a victory and fall apart. You should not let them grow any stronger. By Jupiter himself, you should not. You have made your point. Let it be known now that you care as much as they for the traditions of Rome. The laws you passed cannot be undone, after all.”

“Let those sneering dogs back in to veto me?” Pompey snapped.

Crassus shrugged. “Those, or whoever else the citizens elect. If it is the same men, you may have a difficult time of it for a while, but this is not an easy city to rule. Our people are fed on a diet of democracy from childhood. At times, I think they have dangerously high expectations. They do not like to see their representatives taken from them.”

“I will think about it,” Pompey said reluctantly, looking away across the forum.

Crassus doubted he fully understood the danger. As far as Pompey was concerned, the resistance in the Senate was a passing thing, not the kernel that could lead to open rebellion.

“I know you will make the right decision,” Crassus said.

Julius rubbed his face wearily. How long had he slept, an hour? He couldn’t remember exactly when he had passed out, but he thought the sky had been growing light. The colors seemed to have been washed out of the province, and Mark Antony’s voice had taken on a whining tone Julius had not noticed before.

While half the legions were bleary-eyed and pale, Mark Antony looked as if he were ready for a parade, and Julius was convinced he felt a moral superiority over those who had indulged the night before. The general’s lips pursed as he listened to Julius’s report of the agreement with Mhorbaine.

“I wish you had consulted me before you pledged your support,” Mark Antony said, barely hiding his irritation at what he had heard.

“From what Mhorbaine said, this Ariovistus would be trouble for us at some point. Better to deal with him now, before he is so deeply rooted we’d never be able to throw him back over the Rhine. We do need allies, Mark Antony. The Aedui have promised three thousand of their cavalry at my disposal.”

Mark Antony struggled with his temper for a moment. “Yes, they will promise us anything, sir. I will not believe it until I see them. I warned you Mhorbaine is a clever leader, but it looks as if he has somehow managed to set the two most powerful armies in Gaul at each other’s throats. No doubt Ariovistus has pledged friendship as well, with the Aedui profiting from a war that could break both of their enemies.”

“I’ve seen nothing in Gaul that could stand against us,” Julius said dismissively.

“You have not seen the Germanic tribes. They live for war, keeping a professional class in the field at all times, supported by the rest of their people. And in any case, Ariovistus is…” Mark Antony sighed.

“Ariovistus cannot be touched. He is already a friend of Rome, named so ten years ago. If you take the field against him, the Senate could well remove your command.”

Julius turned and gripped the larger man by the shoulders. “Do you not think this is something I should have been told?” he demanded.

Mark Antony looked back at him, flushing. “I did not think you would make such a promise to Mhorbaine, sir. You barely even know the man! How could I possibly have foretold that you would pledge the legions nearly three hundred miles across the country?”

Julius dropped his hands from his general and stood back. “Ariovistus is a ruthless invader, Mark Antony. My only allies have asked me to help them. I’ll tell you honestly that I do not care if Mhorbaine hopes to see us broken against each other or not. I do not care if Ariovistus is twice the warrior you tell me.

Why do you think I brought my legions to Gaul? Have you seen this land? I could drop a handful of seeds anywhere and see corn spring up before I could turn round. There are forests enough to build fleets, herds of cattle so great they could never be counted. And beyond Gaul? I want to see it all. Three hundred miles is just a step of the way I have in mind. We are not here for a summer, General. We are here to stay, just as soon as I have cut the path for the rest to follow.”

Mark Antony listened in astonishment. “But Ariovistus is one of ours! You can’t just-”