Free Alternate Generals by Roland Green, Harry Turtledove, Martin H. Greenberg Page A

red wine and drinks deep. He never drinks to escape himself but only to relax the tension that is his constant companion, nagging him on to greatness. The moon observes him through his doorway and he thinks how cool it looks, as if made of ice. The night is so still and humid that he wishes he could cool off.

    He remembers an evening like this when he was held by the pirates of Pharmacusa. They were simple men, simpler than his legionnaires. When they ransomed him at twenty talents he laughed at their conservatism and recommended they raise it to fifty. They enjoyed his company and believed he was joking when he promised that one day he'd see them crucified.

    His pleasant manner confused them. His lack of fear disarmed them. In his heart he did not wish them dead and this they could sense. But they did not reckon with his devotion to Rome. She must be served. Her enemies must be punished. This is the force driving him to war upon the republic. Nothing else makes him stand up to the senators and the aristocratic families they represent. Fighting their corruption is the whip driving him on to greater glories, taking what he learned as a general and applying it more generally—the sine qua non of a dictator.

    A soft voice whispers his name in the dark. He returns to his wife. She wants to ask what keeps him awake this night, but they both know the answer. He has called the senate into session on the morrow. The word is out that he will use the opportunity to declare war against the Parthians. There is another rumor as well: that he will use the opportunity to force the issue of kingship. Even some who accept him as dictator will balk at the final, logical step.

    He wants to speak, to set her mind at ease . . . but no words are worthy of the moment. Instead he makes love to her with a passion he hasn't felt in years. She is pleasantly surprised. She adores him still. It is good to be conquered yet again by the general who won in Gaul, Greece, Egypt, Asia Minor, Africa, and most recently Spain. Part warrior, part diplomat, he distracts her attention with fingers and tongue and breath, before accepting her surrender.

    Then she watches him rise from the moist sheets and neatly arrange his hair as if an audience awaited him in the darkness of their bedchamber. She is almost happy. For some reason, she remembers the controversy surrounding the funeral oration he gave for the death of his first wife—a young and lovely girl. Only older women had been so honored before. Caesar was accused of self love. Calphurnia has spent her married life wishing her husband to be guilty of more of this self adoration, expecting that such a surfeit will leave some for her.

    "I had a dream," she hears herself say.

    "What?" he asks, distracted by an insect buzzing in the warm darkness.

    "Must you go to the senate tomorrow?"

    He sits on the edge of the bed and brushes her hair with the same attention he lavishes on his own. "I must not disappoint them."

    An ocean of meaning is contained in those few words. They are his motto. Although born of a patrician family, financial problems have dogged him from the start. Early on he realized his aptitude for the military and learned that being a general requires more than skill in warfare. Statecraft is the extension of war by other means.

    Make many promises but know which ones to keep. Don't be known as a man of thousands of virtuous words—such as his severest critic, Cicero—who never performs a single worthy action. Never devalue the currency except for a good cause. And there is no better cause than putting on spectacular entertainments for the people, be it a triumphal procession or a new series of gladiatorial contests. Always strive to be what the people expect of you, and, failing that, settle for the appearance. Forgive enemies when you think you can get away with it.

    "You never disappoint . . . them," says Calphurnia, as if reading his mind. "But beware of daggers from those who