Renius dropped a few heavy pieces of dead wood by the fire and lay down as close as he could, enjoying the warmth.

“Pass me the wineskin, lad,” he said, his voice mellow.

Brutus pulled the stopper out and gave it to him, watching as Renius guided the spout to his mouth and gulped.

“I'd go easy if I were you,” Brutus said. “You have no head for wine and I don't want you picking a fight with me or weeping or something.”

Renius ignored him, finally gasping as he lowered the skin.

“It's good to be home again,” he said.

Brutus filled their small cooking pot to the brim and lay down on the other side of the fire.

“It is. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed it before the lookout sighted the coast. It brought everything back to me.”

Shaking his head in memory, he stirred the stew with his dagger. Renius raised his head and rested it on his hand.

“You've come a long way from the boy I trained. I don't think I ever told you how proud I was when you made centurion for the Bronze Fist.”

“You told everyone else. It got back to me in the end,” Brutus replied, smiling.

“And now you'll be Julius's man?” Renius said, eyeing the bubbling stew.

“Why not? We walk the same path, remember? Cabera said that.”

“He said the same to me,” Renius muttered, testing the stew with a finger. Though it was clearly boiling, he didn't seem to feel the heat.

“I thought that was why you came back with me. You could have stayed on with the Fist if you'd wanted.”

Renius shrugged. “I wanted to be at the heart of things again.”

Brutus grinned at the big man. “I know. Now Sulla's dead, this is our time.”

CHAPTER 9

I have no idea what you are talking about,” Fercus said. He strained against the ropes that held him to the chair, but there was no give in them.

“I think you know exactly what I mean,” Antonidus said, leaning in very close so that their faces almost touched. “I have a gift for knowing a lie when I am told one.” He sniffed twice suddenly and Fercus remembered how they called him Sulla's dog.

“You reek of lies,” Antonidus said, sneering. “I know you were involved, so simply tell me and I will not have to bring in the torturers. There is no escape from here, broker. No one saw you arrested and no one will know we have spoken. Just tell me who ordered the assassination and where the killer is and you will walk out unharmed.”

“Take me to a court of law. I will find representation to prove my innocence!” Fercus said, his voice shaking.

“Oh, you would like that, wouldn't you? Days wasted in idle talk while the Senate tries to prove it has one law for all. There is no law down here, in this room. Down here, we still remember Sulla.”

“I know nothing!” Fercus shouted, making Antonidus move back a few inches, to his relief. The general shook his head in regret.

“We know the killer went by the name of Dalcius. We know he had been bought for kitchen work three weeks before. The record of the sale has vanished, of course, but there were witnesses. Did you think no one would notice Sulla's own agent at the market? Your name, Fercus, came up over and over again.”

Fercus paled. He knew he would not be allowed to live. He would not see his daughters again. At least they were not in the city. He had sent his wife away when the soldiers came for the slave market records, understanding then what would happen and knowing he could not run with them if he wanted them to escape the wolves Sulla's friends would put on his trail.

He had accepted that there was a small risk, but after burning the sale papers, he had thought they would never make the link among so many thousands of others. His eyes filled with tears.

“Guilt overwhelms you? Or is it just that you have been found out?” Antonidus asked sharply.

Fercus said nothing and looked at the floor. He did not think he could stand torture.

The men who entered at Antonidus's order were old soldiers, calm and untroubled at what they were asked to do.

“I want names from him,” Antonidus said to them. He turned back to Fercus and raised his head until their eyes met once more. “Once these men have started, it will take a tremendous effort to make them stop. They enjoy this sort of thing. Is there anything you want to say before it begins?”

“The Republic is worth a life,” Fercus said, his eyes bright.

Antonidus smiled. “The Republic is dead, but I do love to meet a man of principle. Let's see how long it lasts.”

Fercus tried to pull away as the first slivers of metal were pressed against his skin.

Antonidus watched in fascination for a while, then slowly grew pale, wincing at the muffled, heaving sounds Fercus made as the two men bent over him. Nodding to them to continue, the general left, hurrying to be out in the cool night air.

It was worse than anything Fercus had ever known, an agony of humiliation and terror. He turned his head to one of the men and his lips twisted open to speak, though his blurring eyes could not see more than vague shapes of pain and light.

“If you love Rome, let me die. Let me die quickly.”

The two men paused to exchange a glance, then resumed their work.

Julius sat in the sand with the others, shivering as dawn finally came to warm them. They had soaked the clothes in the sea, removing the worst of months of fetid darkness, but they had to let them dry on their bodies.

The sun rose swiftly and they were silent witnesses to the first glorious dawn they had seen since standing on the decks of Accipiter. With the light, they saw the beach was a thin strip of sand that ran along the alien coast. Thick foliage clustered right up to the edge of it as far as the eye could see, except for one wide path only half a mile away, found by Prax as they scouted the area. They had no idea where the captain had put them down, except that it was likely to be near a village. For the ransoms to be a regular source of funds, it was important that prisoners made it back to civilization, and they knew the coast would not be uninhabited. Prax was sure it was the north coast of Africa. He said he recognized some of the trees, and it was true that the birds that flew overhead were not those of home.

“We could be close to a Roman settlement,” Gaditicus had said to them. “There are hundreds of them along the coast, and we can't be the first prisoners to be left here. We should be able to get on one of the merchant ships and be back in Rome before the end of summer.”

“I'm not going back,” Julius had said quietly. “Not like this, without money and in rags. I meant what I said to the captain.”

“What choice do you have?” Gaditicus replied. “If you had a ship and a crew, you could still spend months searching for that one pirate out of many.”

“I heard one of the guards call him Celsus. Even if it's not his real name, it's a start. We know his ship and someone will know him.”

Gaditicus raised his eyebrows. “Look, Julius. I would like to see the bastard again as much as you, but it just isn't possible. I didn't mind you baiting the idiot on board, but the reality is we don't have a sword between us, nor coins to rub together.”

Julius stood and looked steadily at the centurion. “Then we will start by getting those, then men to make a crew, then a ship to hunt in. One thing at a time.”

Gaditicus returned the gaze, feeling the intensity behind it. “We?” he said quietly.

“I'd do it alone if I had to, though it would take longer. If we stay together, I have a few ideas for getting our money back so we can return to Rome with pride. I won't creep back home beaten.”