Chapter 37 - Verona Broken

Constantine rose before moon-set, mounted, and watched the long, dark column slip eastward like a shadow peeled from the earth. A handful of camp-fires still burned before Verona—evidence of the dummy siege left behind under Legate Sabinus—but the true weight of the army flowed away in silence, sandals muffled with rags, helmets capped by leather so lamplight would find no glint. Yesterday he had spoken of fissures in solid stone; tonight he would become the fissure, sliding unseen around the fortress that thought itself the hinge of northern Italy.