They travelled on.

The escape from Scaevola had been the most frightening and hair-raising part of Fabiola’s journey so far. That was, until they neared Alesia. The horror continued for mile after mile. And yet the threat was not living. Just a dozen miles from the last legionary outpost, the countryside was filled with burnt villages and fields of torched crops. Herds of cattle and sheep lay slaughtered, their bloated corpses stinking in the early summer sunshine. Vercingetorix’ men had been hard at work, their aim to deny food and supplies to Caesar’s army. Any living creatures remaining were wild animals and birds. There were no people – everyone had either fled, or joined Vercingetorix in Alesia. It was a sign of how desperate the struggle had been, Fabiola realised. Surely a chieftain would only order the destruction of his own people’s livelihood in the worst of circumstances? Now large tracts of the Gauls’ land lay in waste, which meant there would be no food for the coming winter. Long after the soldiers on both sides left, innocent women and children would starve to death. This extra blood price was chilling.

But what was she supposed to do? One woman could not change the aggressive nature of the Roman Republic, or of one of its best generals. As usual, Fabiola’s practical side took control. The people of Gaul were beyond her aid. She would help those she could, such as her slaves. Furthermore, she resolved to locate the boy who had been pursued on to her land by Scaevola. The memory of what the fugitivarius had done to him afterwards still tortured her.

Fabiola had little time to dwell on it.

Beyond the devastated farmland lay even more graphic evidence of Caesar’s war. By the time they were within a few miles of Alesia, there were dead and dying Gauls lying all along the wayside, men who had fled the battle or been evacuated by their comrades and then left to die when they could no longer keep up. Thankfully, there was no sign of any able-bodied warriors, but the optio’s fears had grown so great that he refused to continue. Red-faced with determined embarrassment, he insisted that Fabiola and twenty men conceal themselves in a large copse several hundred paces from the road. She could only watch in frustration as he and the other legionaries headed off to find out what they could.

The optio was not gone for long.

‘It’s all over,’ he shouted jubilantly when within earshot. ‘Caesar has done it!’

Whispers of excitement passed between the hidden soldiers.

Fabiola breathed a long sigh of relief, while Secundus grinned from ear to ear. Impatient, they waited until the junior officer had reached them.

‘The battle finished yesterday, apparently. By all the gods, you should see it,’ he said, waving his arms with excitement. ‘Caesar’s legions have built miles of fortifications all around the town to prevent any break-out.’ He paused. ‘And another set facing outwards to stop any attempt at relieving the siege.’

Fabiola could not conceal her surprise. ‘They were being attacked by two armies?’

The optio nodded vigorously. ‘Caesar had ten legions, yet he must have been outnumbered by at least five to one. There are thousands of dead Gauls everywhere, but they say it’s even worse north-west of the battlefield.’

‘Is that where the battle was decided?’ asked Secundus, his face alight.

‘Yes. The enemy warriors almost broke through the defences there. Caesar sent reinforcements led by Decimus Brutus, but they were nearly overwhelmed.’

Fabiola blanched.

‘Then Caesar rallied the soldiers and turned the tide!’

‘You’re one of Pompey’s men, remember?’ joked Secundus.

‘I follow orders just like anyone,’ grumbled the optio. ‘Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a great general.’

‘Is Brutus alive?’ interrupted Fabiola.

‘Yes, lady. I asked.’

‘The gods be thanked,’ she cried. ‘And is it safe to continue?’

‘It is. I can guide you to him.’ He grimaced. ‘But we’ll need to travel straight across the battlefield.’

‘Lead on.’ Sure that she had seen the worst of it, Fabiola could wait no longer. She had to see Brutus.

The optio paused, unsure.

‘The danger is over,’ she snapped. ‘You said so yourself.’

The junior officer glanced at Secundus, who shrugged. He tried one more time. ‘It’s not a sight for women.’

‘I’ll be the judge of that.’

Used to her domineering nature by now, the optio snapped off a crisp salute. Signalling the men to follow, he led the way down to the road.

Over a small rise, the battlefield proper began. A strange, unquiet air hung over the whole area. It was in marked contrast to the frantic mayhem of the previous days, which Fabiola struggled to imagine. Clouds of ravens and crows swooped and dived overhead, their harsh cawing the only sound. Like a forest of small trees, countless spears jutted from the ground, any gaps in between filled by the smaller, feathered shapes of arrows.

But it was the number of dead that drew her eyes, again and again.

Fabiola was utterly horrified. Nothing could have prepared her for it, not even the bloodshed she had witnessed in the arena. The ground was littered with more bodies than seemed possible: this was death on an unreal scale. Here was a glut of food that even the flocks of birds could not deal with. And now the corpses were Roman as well as Gaulish. They were heaped in huge piles, draped over each other like sleeping drunks at a feast. There was blood everywhere – on the slack faces, oozing from the countless gaping wounds, on the discarded swords and spears. Pools of it lay clotted around soldiers who had bled to death. Underfoot, the grass had been trampled down from the passage of men, churned into a red, glutinous mud that stuck to the legionaries’ sandals. A faint buzzing sound permeated the still air, made by the clouds of flies that clustered on every exposed piece of flesh.

Groups of legionaries could be seen moving methodically through the dead, stripping them of weapons and valuables. Occasionally enemy warriors were found alive, but none were being spared. By now, the only ones to remain living on the field were those who could not flee. Badly injured, the Gauls were therefore of no use as slaves. From time to time swords flashed in the sun, and short choking cries bubbled away into nothing.

The number of bodies soon made it impossible for the slaves carrying the litter to continue. Alighting, Fabiola raised a hand to her nose, vainly trying not to inhale. The cloying smell of rotting flesh was already sticking in the back of her throat. She could imagine how bad it would be after two or three more days under the hot sun.

Hastily, the optio directed a number of men to march in front of Fabiola, clearing the way. The walk was still like having to traverse the underworld, but she wasn’t going to stop now. Finally, Brutus was within reach. She would be safe once more.

The Roman circumvallation came into sight, dragging Fabiola’s eyes away from the carnage around her. No one could fail to be impressed by the scale of the engineering And all these features had been constructed in duplicate, on the other side.

Fabiola was astonished by Caesar’s sheer determination. He truly was the amazing general that Brutus had described. A dangerous man. A rapist?

On a large plateau above the fortifications, stood the object of Caesar’s attention: Alesia.

Trying to break through from either direction would have been a suicidal task, Fabiola thought. And defending the ramparts, utterly terrifying.

The optio had not been exaggerating about the scale of the slaughter. It was far greater here than what they had left behind. Her gorge rose, and she struggled not to vomit. Is this what Hades looked like? Had Carrhae been this bad?

Cries of pain drew her attention away from one horror to another.