“There will be better men in the Senate in time. A new generation, like Julius.”

Tubruk's expression eased a little, but Brutus was shocked at the depth of the bitterness and sadness he had seen revealed. Tubruk had always been a pillar of certainty in the lives of the boys. He struggled to find the right words to say.

“We will make a Rome that you can be proud of,” he said. Tubruk reached up and gripped his outstretched arm.

“Oh, to be young again,” he said, smiling. “Come on home, Aurelia will be thrilled to see you so tall and strong.”

“Tubruk? I…” Brutus hesitated. “I won't stay for long. I have enough coin to get lodgings in the city.”

Tubruk glanced at him, understanding. “This is your home. It always will be. You stay as long as you want.”

The silence stretched again as they walked toward the estate buildings.

“Thank you. I wasn't sure if you'd expect me to make my own way now. I can, you know.”

“I know, Marcus,” Tubruk replied, smiling as he called out for the gates to be opened.

The young man felt a weight lift from him. “They call me Brutus now.”

Tubruk put out his hand and Brutus took it in the legionary's grip.

“Welcome home, Brutus,” Tubruk replied.

He led Brutus into the kitchens while the water was heated for his bath, motioning him to a chair while Tubruk cut meat and bread for him. He was hungry himself after the axe work, and they ate and talked with the ease and comfort of old friends.

The heat seemed to batter at his skin as Julius inspected the six new recruits. The African sun even made his armor painful to touch, and anywhere the metal made contact with his skin was an agony until he could shift it.

Nothing of his discomfort showed in his expression, though the first doubts tugged at his concentration as he looked at the men he'd found. They were strong and fit enough, but not one of them had been trained as a soldier. For his plan to work, he needed a force of fifty at least and had begun to believe that he would get them. The trouble was, they needed to take orders and make war with the sort of discipline the Accipiter officers took completely for granted. Somehow, he had to impress upon them the simple fact that they would die without it.

Physically, they were impressive enough, but only two of the six had volunteered and these from the last village. He expected there to be more as they came to resemble a proper Roman half-century, but the first four had come because he had insisted on it, and they were still angry. The second village had seemed happy to be rid of the largest of them, and Julius guessed he was a troublemaker. His expression seemed set in a constant sneer that irritated Julius every time he saw it.

Renius would have beaten them into shape for him, he thought. That was a start. He had to think what Renius would do. Gaditicus and the others from Accipiter had followed him this far, hardly believing how easy it had been after the first settlement. Julius wondered how many Romans in all the hundreds of retirement farms had sons who could be taught to fight. There was an army out there and all that was needed was for someone to find them and remind them of the call of blood.

He stopped next to the troublemaker and saw how the eyes met his with polite inquiry and not a trace of fear or respect. He towered over most of them, his limbs long and lithely muscled, shining with sweat. The biting flies that tormented the officers of Accipiter seemed not to trouble him at all, and he stood like a statue in the heat. The man reminded him of Marcus to some extent. He looked every inch a Roman, but even the Latin he spoke was a corrupted mix of African dialect and phrases. Julius knew his father had died and left him a farm that he had neglected to the point of ruin. Left alone, he would have been killed in a fight or joined the pirates when the last of the money and wine ran out.

What was the man's name? Julius prided himself on learning them quickly, as he had once seen Marius do for every man under his command, yet under the cool stare, he couldn't think of it at first. Then it came to him. He had told them to call him Ciro, giving no other. He probably didn't even know it was a slave name. What would Renius do?

“I need men who can fight,” he said, looking into the brown eyes that returned his glare so steadily.

“I can fight,” Ciro replied, his confidence obvious.

“I need men who can keep their temper in a crisis,” Julius continued.

“I can-” Ciro began.

Julius slapped him hard across the face. For a moment, anger flared in the dark eyes, but Ciro held himself still, the muscles of his bare chest twitching like a great cat's. Julius leaned close to him.

“Do you want to take up a sword? Cut me down?” he whispered harshly.

“No,” Ciro replied, and the calm was back once more.

“Why not?” Julius asked, wondering how to reach him.

“My father… said a legionary had to have control.”

Julius stayed where he was, though his thoughts spun wildly. There was a lever here.

“You didn't have control in the settlement where we found you, did you?” he said, hoping he had guessed correctly about Ciro's relationship with the villagers. The big man said nothing for a long time, and Julius waited patiently, knowing not to interrupt.

“I wasn't… a legionary then,” Ciro said.

Julius eyed him, looking for the insolence he had come to expect. It was missing and silently he cursed the Senate for wasting men like these, who dreamed of being legionaries while wasting their lives in a strange land.

“You are not a legionary,” Julius said slowly, and saw the mouth begin to twist in response to the rejection, “but I can make you one. You will learn brotherhood with me and from me, and you will walk the streets of the distant city with your head high. If anyone stops you, you will tell them you are a soldier of Caesar's.”

“I will,” Ciro said.

“Sir.”

“I will, sir,” he said, and stood tall.

Julius stood back to address the recruits, standing with the waiting officers of Accipiter.

“With men like you, what can't we achieve? You are the children of Rome and we will show you your history and your pride. We will teach you the gladius and battle formations, the laws, the customs, the life. There will be more to come and you will train them, showing what it means to be of Rome. Now we march. The next village will see legionaries when they see you.”

The line of pairs was ragged and out of step, but Julius knew that would improve. He wondered if Renius would have seen the need in the new men, but dismissed the thought. Renius wasn't here. He was.

Gaditicus waited with him, falling in beside as they brought up the rear of the column.

“They follow you,” he noted.

Julius turned quickly to him. “They must, if we are ever to crew a ship and take back our ransoms.”

Gaditicus snorted softly, clapping his hand on Julius's armor.

Julius faltered and stopped. “Oh no,” he whispered. “Tell them we'll catch them up. Quickly!”

Gaditicus gave the order and watched as the double file of Romans marched away along the path. They were quickly out of sight around a bend and Gaditicus turned to Julius enquiringly. He had gone pale and shut his eyes.

“Is it the sickness again?” Gaditicus asked.

Julius nodded weakly. “Before… the last fit, I tasted metal in my mouth. I can taste it now.” He hawked and spat, his expression bitter. “Don't tell them. Don't…”

Gaditicus caught him as he fell, and held him down as his body jerked and twisted, his sandals cutting arcs in the undergrowth with the violence of their movement. The biting flies seemed to sense his weakness and swarmed around them. Gaditicus looked around for something to jam between Julius's teeth, but the cloth they had used on Accipiter was long gone. He wrenched up a heavy leaf and managed to get the fibrous stalk across Julius's mouth, letting it fall in as the mouth champed. It held and Gaditicus bore down with all his weight until the fit was over.