His wife was waiting for him when he came in the door. She always did when he went to a meeting of the Senate.

"Anything new today, Tiberius?" Galla asked. "Any news from your father in the east?"

"Yes, yes," mumbled Tiberius, absently. There was so much to be done. "Gather the family. I'll be in the courtyard." Yes, the courtyard would be ideal. A quiet oasis in the midst of Rome's bustle. He needed to think.

He couldn't tell when he became aware of his family, clustered nearby, waiting for him. Galla gently tapped him on the shoulder, and Tiberius came back to the present. So much to be done...

He looked over his family. He had three sons. A large family, for a Senatorial family, but the Brutii clan held vast estates. They would all be able to enter the Senate when their time came. For now, though, they had other tasks. Time to tell them what those were.

"I have important news," he declared. "News from the east. My father is dead, and his men with him, before the town of Apollonia." He had warned his father against campaigning at his age, but the old man had insisted, and dropped dead just before battle because of it, giving his troops a speech. The demoralized men had been routed by the locals, and now here he was. "The Senate has requested that our family deal with Apollonia and avenge my father. We will do so."

Pausing, he turned to his second son, Amulius. "Amulius, you have always been our best soldier. You will take all the soldiers we have available and sail at once for Epirus. Take Apollonia." Tiberius turned to his oldest son, Aulus. "Aulus, you will go with your brother as his legate." Turning to his youngest son, Vibius, he said "Vibius, you are to stay in Tarentum and make sure your brothers receive the proper supplies and reinforcements." Vibius had always had a genius for management. "I also name you as my heir. If I die, you will lead the Brutii." Unusual, and Aulus looked disappointed, but he was paterfamilias. His word was law.

"Go now. Make your family, and Rome, proud."

"Friends, Senators. I have good news to report from Epirus. Apollonia is taken! I have in my hand a report from my son, Amulius. Listen."

Tiberius began to read:

From Amulius Brutus to Tiberius Brutus, greetings and good health. I have excellent tidings - Apollonia and Epirus are ours! The Epirots were arrogant and weak. Only a handful of militia hoplites came out to oppose us, and our velites showered them with pila. I myself rode down their commander. As we entered the town, we were attacked by a hundred or so peltasts. Aulus and I rode them down like grass. Almost 500 slaves have been taken, and await your pleasure.

---Amulius

The Senate burst into applause at the news. Rome now had a foothold outside Italy. But some were not impressed.

"Epirus is all well and good, Tiberius, but what about Illyria? Can you take Illyria?" That was Murena again. "And what of Macedon? You should seek trade rights with them. What says the Senate?" Just like Murena, thinking of the merchants. And of course it would pass the vote, and somebody would have to be found to go to Macedon...

The vote passed, and Tiberius hurried home to draft the message he would send. Vibius would know someone to send. He always did.

The slave handed a scroll to Tiberius, who immediately began reading. News from the east? It was.

From Amulius Brutus to Tiberius Brutus, greetings and good health. More good tidings. Salona is fallen into our hands, and we now control coastal Dalmatia. Just like Apollonia, the battle at Salona was a complete rout. The wardogs the Senate provided proved excellent - they took down an entire company of Illyrian mercenaries almost by themselves! As for the rest of the battle, it would be a waste of ink to describe.

I await Aulus here at Salona. I sent him north, and my son Cassius south to replace him at Apollonia. Aulus is a fighter, like me. Cassius? Cassius spends too much time with the philosophers. More a scholar than a warrior. I worry about the boy, to be honest. More a Greek than a true Roman. Apollonia ought to suit the boy.

Finally, I have secured trade rights with Macedon. Young Cassius concluded the deal with some Macedonian diplomat. I've looked over the deal, and he doesn't appear to have been too badly cheated.

Speak well of me to the Senate, and send me a task more challenging than these fools. I grow bored.

---Amulius

The Senate, as Tiberius knew they would be, were delighted at the news. Gladiatorial games were held at Croton in the honor of Amulius, but along with them came a new task for the rising star of the Brutii.

"Take Lilybaeum? We're to war with Carthage? Whatever for? And shouldn't that be a task for the Scipii, in any case?" Tiberius couldn't believe his ears. Carthage? This would take some thinking.

"So Amulius, tell us about Segestica!" That was Kaeso Annaeus, Paulina's new husband. Amulius wasn't sure what to make of the man yet. Vibius, meanwhile, was completely absorbed in his new wife. Amulius knew what to think of that - it was about time his brother perked up a bit. His father, of course, waited to hear what he had to say.

"Nothing to tell, really. Sure, they had a palisade up, but the ram took care of that, and then I unleashed the dogs and the cavalry on them, and that scattered them well enough." And made him a nice profit from the slaves, but some things weren't discussed at the dinner table. "No, the real news is from Cassius. Boy took his bodyguards out and hunted himself down some rebels! Finally he's seen combat and become a true Roman!"

"Rebels," Kaeso sneered. "Scum. What about Greeks, or Carthaginians? Those are true foes, worthy of fighting."

Amulius stared levelly at the man for a moment, then asked "Have YOU ever seen a battle?"

This threw the man off balance a bit. "No," he replied, "My duties have always been elsewhere."

"Well then, my friend, you shall have your battle. We sail in the morning for Sicily!"

Kaeso gulped. His battle would soon be coming.

Puffed up old fools, Amulius thought as he reigned his horse in before the men. Bloodthirsty warmongers, the lot of them. But do you see any of them picking up a sword? Of course not. That was the thing about grandfather, at least he knew how to fight.

Right. Speeches were sort of expected at these things, so he might as well get started.

"Men! Hear me! These men before you are the Greeks! They are a proud race, but they have fallen far! You can see the gates stand open, because our spies have bribed their guards! And fear not inside the walls! We are fully half the strength of the Brutii, and the Greeks are merely a collection of untrained old men with sticks! This is my kind of fight! Charge!"

And with that, they were off. War dogs raced in front of the men, snarling and growling. The hastati were right behind. The commander at the gate never knew what hit him, as the dogs leaped upon him, and he and his men were slain by Roman steel.

Then the phalanx came. The famous hoplite phalanx, feared throughout the Greek world. For centuries it defeated foe after foe. But these were the best men Rome had to offer. Pilum after pilum lanced its way into the phalanx, leaving gaps to be exploited by the dogs and the cavalry. All the way into the agora, the marketplace, they ran, slaughtering Greek peasant after Greek peasant. Once, Amulius was ambushed by a few ragged peltasts, and he turned and ran them down.

And then the Romans reached the agora. And the Greek general, Antigonos of Sparta, saw them and spurred his cavalry into a charge. His charge met the Roman charge, and the marketplace was turned into a storm of clashing steel, cries of pain, and blood. And in the midst of the melee, Amulius found Antigonos the Greek, and fought him, and slew him.

And when it was over, the Romans ran from house to house, looting and sacking and gathering up slaves. And Amulius made his way to the governor's house to bathe the blood away.

Thus Thermon fell.

All of this was a sign of the newfound prosperity brought to the Brutii by their expansion, as was the brand new temple to Mars in the city square, and the ships in the port from Sicily. Tiberius had even recently heard of an even greater temple of Mars being erected in Tarentum, under Vibius' watchful eye.

Tiberius turned his gaze to the young man standing next to him. "Magnificent, aren't they?"

Cornelius Brutus, son of the family's greatest general, merely nodded.

Of course they are, thought his grandfather, Even unblooded as they are, these are the best troops in Rome. How can they be otherwise, when the Scipii chase around Sicily after a handful of Greeks like dogs chasing their tails, and the Julii refuse to press into Gaul. Indeed, I hear Flavius Julius and the Gaul chieftains are thick as thieves these days. But not we Brutii. We know how to uphold the traditions of Roman strength, Roman honor. Soon enough we shall own Greece, and prove our preeminence.

Aloud, he said "You are to command these men in battle, Cornelius. Not this year, and maybe not the next, but it is your birthright as a Roman patrician, as it was your father's birthright. When the time comes, you will lead these men into battle, and you will triumph, as befits a true Roman."

A knock at the door interrupted any further speechmaking on Tiberius' part. A slave handed the old man a pair of scrolls, who handed them to Cornelius to read. His eyes weren't what they used to be.

Cornelius opened the first scroll and read. "This one is from Manius Paelignus in Dacia. He says that the Dacians have agreed to trade with us, although he wonders why we would want to trade with such barbarians."

Ah, the Senate will be pleased to hear that, thought Tiberius. To his grandson, he said "And the other message?"

Cornelius unrolled that scroll. "From Father in Greece! He says he's marched through Greece, has bypassed Macedonian Athens and Corinth, and has attacked Sparta! Here's the battle report..."

It's a wonder I'm not dead. If all I have from this is a broken arm, that's enough luck for me.

Trying not to lean on his horse, he surveyed the Spartan agora. Many other Romans, and not a few Greeks, hadn't been as lucky as he - a carpet of dead men and horses lay strewn about the streets. Here and there a man moaned, or clutched a wound. Blood ran in the gutters. To one side sat a very few dejected Spartans, watched over by almost as few tired hastati.

These Spartans were a worthy adversary. Say what you will about the rest of the Greeks, these Spartans know how to fight. Not much like Thermon.

Oh, the Romans had rammed down the gates easily enough. For all the fighting prowess of the Spartans, their palisade wall was ridiculously easy to overcome. Then some young hothead and his bodyguards had charged into the hastati. Surrounded by a hundred men, he hadn't lasted long. A diversionary attack by a group of hoplites hadn't fared well either. He had let the dogs out upon them, and he and young Titus had slaughtered the rest.

No, it had started with the long column of hoplites that had snaked down the street, armor clanking and shields rattling, to do battle with the invader. From the rooftops the peasants hurled missiles onto Roman heads. That had been a hard fight, with the hastati slowly falling back under the weight of the Spartan phalanx until he and Titus led a group of horsemen around into the rear and broke up the phalanx. The peasants, they left. The looting would come later. The survivors, with he at their head, had made their way into the agora.

There stood Doros the Spartan, and the last of his bodyguard. To a man, they wore red robes over their armor, both foot and horse. Looking at them, Amulius saw no fear amongst them, and indeed, before he could order a charge, the Spartans charged his own lines, led by Doros himself. Metal rang on metal, and screams split the air as the Spartans crashed through the thin Roman lines. Amulius almost despaired. Not now, when the city was almost within their grasp!

It was young Titus who stopped the Spartan charge. Throwing his horsemen into the fray, the young patrician found Doros the Spartan, and killed him. But even that did not break the Spartan fury. Amulius himself led a charge into the rear of the Spartans, but still they did not break, and they fought and fought until at last the very last Spartan lay dead and it was over.

And though the last of the Spartans would live forever in song and legend, that battle and that day marked the end of the kingdom of the Spartans forever.

His thoughts were interrupted by Titus himself, who carried a chest with him.

"What have you got there, nephew?" asked the general, nodding towards the chest.

"Why, I have no idea. It just arrived by courier from Rome, to be delivered to you personally. The courier seemed just as puzzled by it as we are, though he did say that news of this victory is all over Rome. We're being hailed as heroes by all the people."

Titus set the chest down, and Amulius crouched to open it. First to catch his eye was a set of nine golden medallions, each set into a tooled leather backing. Amulius gasped and held them up to show Titus.

"Nine gold phalerae, uncle? You must have done something to impress the Senate." Pointing to a scroll that had been hidden under the phalerae, he pointed. "And what do they have to say?"

Amulius unrolled it and read:

From Gaius Maxentius, Consul, to Amulius Brutus Victor, conqueror of the Spartans, greetings.

It is my pleasure to inform you that word has reached Rome of your exploits in Greece, and of the many battles you have fought there for the glory of Rome. In the name of the Senate and the People of Rome, I hereby confer upon you the name of Victor, and also these golden phalerae, as marks of our gratitude and esteem for you and your soldiers. Wear them with pride and honor.

But do not let your soldiers get too comfortable. It is our wish that you take your army and sail to Rhodes and capture it as soon as you are able.

Make haste, and remember that all Rome is watching you.

---Gaius Maxentius

"Well Titus, this will be a hard one, and no doubt about that. Are the men rested, and our losses replaced?"

"Yes, uncle. Half the men are little better than raw recruits, but they're ready and rested."

"Good. See to some ships, the best you can find. There are far too many Greek ships between us and Rhodes. And keep it quiet. Word of this gets out before we sail and we'll have every Greek between here and Alexandria after us."

Titus nodded and left, and Amulius Brutus Victor went to war once again.

"The men are settled in?" he asked his primus pilus centurion, Gaius.

"Yes, general." replied the grizzled old centurion, an old veteran of his father's from Greece. Many times aboard ship the man had told him stories of his father, the things he had done, the battles he had won.

Mars grant me the strength to live up to all he has done, thought Cornelius. To Gaius he asked "And the towers?"

"Almost ready, general. The ladders are ready, and our miners are almost directly under their walls. We could attack tomorrow, if you wished."

Cornelius nodded. "Good work. And Captain Herakles?" Pretentious name, but Greeks are like that. He had better prove useful, with what we're paying him.

"Camped with his hoplites, general. Says he's ready to fight whenever you give the order."

"Good. Get some sleep, Gaius. We'll attack tomorrow."

The primus pilus nodded and left the tent, leaving Cornelius alone.

Oh, gods, help me tomorrow, he thought. I have so much to live up to. So very much. He sighed, banishing the thought, and thought of his family. Cornelius wasn't sure if he missed his wife or not. The marriage had taken place right before he had left Italy, and besides, Pulcheria was only twelve, and could be rather annoying. No, it was his father that he missed the most, a man who he hadn't seen in six years, since he was Pulcheria's age. The man who conquered Sparta. A great man, his father. He sighed again, and turned to a scroll he had carried with him from Italy. He had almost memorized the contents.

My son, it read, I hope this letter finds you well. I write in haste, for we embark upon our ships to Rhodes as I speak. I've good men with me, all of them brave and strong Romans. I almost pity the Rhodians! We'll crush them, as befits all Greeks. You, I hear from your grandfather, are to lead an army to Sicily, to Syracuse. Good, I say! You're young for such an important task, but you are my son. I think you can pull it off. Listen to Gaius, though. He's seen much, and heard more. And watch out for the Greek hoplites! Their pikes can be more than a match for our infantry if you aren't careful. Try to hit them in the rear with cavalry, break their formations. They're easy pickings after that. But you'll have heard that a dozen times already, so I'll say no more.

Greece is a busy place these days, my son. You've probably heard of the alliance I signed with Thrace a year ago. Ought to keep Macedon off our backs while I'm away. The Thracians are a fantastic lot, unlike anything a Roman's ever seen. Maybe a bit like the Gauls, I suppose. They all wear trousers and droopy moustaches and heavy gold neck rings, and they go half naked into battle wielding these enormous long swords. It's quite a sight to behold. As to the Greeks themselves, well, they're docile enough, once you show them a sword and sell a few as slaves. How Alexander ever conquered the world is beyond me.

Your brother Cassius is still my legate in Epirus. I see him every so often, but I hear more. Honestly, son, I'm worried about him. He spends all his time with his philosophers, and leaves the administration of the province to tax farmers and merchants. I also hear, and it shocks me to speak of it, of his participation in orgies, with or without his wife. I'm not sure if his lack of offspring in that case is a curse or a blessing. I think what he needs is a trip to the battlefield with me, but I cannot spare him from where he is.

But that is my problem. To you, my son, I say strength and honor, and do your father proud!

Cornelius set the scroll down, blew out the candle, and tried to sleep.

Dust still lay in a thick cloud about the breach when Captain Herakles' mercenary hoplites arrived. Through swirling clouds of dust, Cornelius saw them rout a group of enemy cavalry, clearing the way for the hastati behind them. On the other side of the gate, a tower was unloading hastati onto the wall. Then the hoplites disappeared.

"Damn it, Herakles! You were supposed to wait!" Cornelius swore and pounded his saddle, but, as all battles were, this one was beyond his control now.

Atop the gatehouse, the hastati were waving.

"Come on, men!" Cornelius cried, charging through the gates. It took a minute or two to reunite his troops. Where Herakles was, he had no idea. He led his men deeper into the city, searching for more Greeks to hunt down. He found them in a column of hoplites heading away from him down a long street. Perfect.

The Roman charge took the hoplites completely by surprise. It had worked exactly like his father had said. Disorganized and routed, they were quickly dispatched, and the hunt continued.

It was in the agora that Cornelius found Herakles and his men. Corpses of mercenaries and of Romans littered the expanse. Not a one of them was alive. And in the center of the square stood a score of horsemen, all of them bearing the arms of...

"King Dionysios! Charge!"

Cornelius lead the way. In his eagerness, he left his foot troops behind, and was quickly swallowed by the Greek cavalry. Ignoring him, they crashed into his oncoming men, leaving Cornelius alone to face the King of Syracuse.

As befitted his station, the king was dressed in fine armor, decorated with rearing horses. It would be a fine trophy. His face was hidden in one of those full helmets the Greeks always wore. A pity. He would have liked to have seen the king's face before he killed him.

The duel was silent as it was quick. A parry, a parry, and the Roman's sword caught on the Greek's shield as Dionysios' sword slid home. Cornelius, son of the man who had ravaged Greece, toppled from his horse.

The day was lost.

Syracuse must be taken, no matter what the cost. Cornelius must be avenged. I cannot rest until it is.

He hadn't rested, either. He was tired, and his chest hurt for some reason. But there was too much to do. He couldn't rest now.

He found a messenger waiting for him at the house. One glance at the man's face told Tiberius that the news would not be good.

"Well, what is it?" he snapped at the man, who bowed nervously before replying.

"Sir, it's the Gauls! They've attacked Salona! They're rampaging through Dalmatia, killing and pillaging! Your son Aulus is under seige!

"WHAT!?" roared the enraged Tiberius. "The Gauls!? How dare they! I'll..."

Something burst. His chest hurt. Why was he on the floor? Who was screaming? Darkness.

The lands of the Brutii, AUC 497