Marius' Mules IV: Conspiracy of Eagles (77 page)

Lucilia narrowed her eyes at him and squeezed his arm. “Do you want me to stay, Marcus?”

“No. Go with your father. I’ll see you all back at the house. We’ve got things to arrange, and I want to be there when Galronus pops his question. I will piss myself if she says no.”

Lucilia smiled warmly. “That’s not going to happen, Marcus. Get used to the idea.”

Fronto laughed quietly and watched as Balbus and his daughter turned to head back to their house on the Cispian. At the bottom of the street, a respectable distance away, half a dozen of Balbus’ newly-hired guards waited for them. No longer was the older man willing to risk the ladies on the streets of
Rome
without a suitable escort. Things had changed in the city, and not for the better. Still, things would be better for
them
next week when they left along the Via Appia for the winter at Puteoli; Balbus, Corvinia, young Balbina and their retinue included. After all, how else would they gather the families together for the wedding ceremony that was now looming on the horizon.

“Stop smiling like a dazed girl-child” Fabius admonished him from behind. “You’ll look like an idiot.”

Furius, at his other shoulder, laughed for a moment until the pain of his belly-wound stopped him.

“I don’t really need you two either.”

“I think that experience suggests otherwise, don’t you?” the shorter centurion grinned.

Fronto opened his mouth to deliver a suitably cutting reply that he wasn’t sure of yet when the door opened again and the servant stepped aside.

“Please follow me, gentlemen.”

Fronto stared across the threshold. It had been almost two weeks since the death of the tribunes and he’d done little more exerting since then than stroll down to the bakery – or the circus when Lucilia was unaware – and his knee was already beginning to feel stronger and easier. Fabius had had his various wounds tended and Fronto had to admit he was impressed with the tall centurion’s stamina. He was already beginning to exercise again, retraining himself with his sword in the courtyard of the villa to fight with only one eye, which altered his perception.

Furius would pull through, the Greek medicus said. After four days of monitoring the bad wound, he’d noted no putrefaction and announced that he’d succeeded in saving the centurion. It would be months before the shorter officer could take even the lightest exercise, but the man was willing himself better and refused to stay still.

And so here they were, out in the city.

The three men stepped through the door. Despite the austerity of the exterior wall, the inside of the house was well appointed. Tasteful, yes, but displaying great wealth and power.

Caesar sat in his triclinium, an untouched platter of fruit at his side, a great map laid out on the table before him. He looked up, his face betraying no surprise at the three men’s arrival.

“Fronto? What can I do for you?”

The legate of the Tenth legion walked across to face his patron and folded his arms, the two centurions falling in behind him.

“First thing’s first, Caesar. Tell me about Clodius.”

“Hmm?”

“Clodius. What did you do?”

The general frowned as though trying to recall the name. “Oh yes. Clodius. I expressed my displeasure to him.”

“And that’s all?”

“I am not about to smash a useful tool, Fronto, because I accidentally nicked myself with it. Yes. I expressed my displeasure. He will not overstep his bounds so again.”

“I see.”

The general scratched his chin idly. Fronto’s eyes fell on the map.

“Britannia? Trying to figure out what went wrong?”

“Hardly. I am trying to decide how best to deal with them when the sailing season opens again.”

“You’re going
back
?” said Fabius from Fronto’s shoulder, his voice betraying his surprise.

“Indeed I am. The task is not yet complete.”

Fronto snorted. “I hear that the senate has voted you twenty days of thanksgiving. I suspect your task
is
complete, unless twenty days isn’t enough?”

Anger flashed across Caesar’s eyes. “Have a care, Fronto. You may think you command independently, but I am still the praetor of the army and you serve me.”

“Not any more.”

Caesar’s brow furrowed as he sat back in his seat and reached for the fruit.

“Do tell…”

“You go too far, Caesar. I simply cannot stand there and deny everything that
Cicero
accuses you of, gainsaying Labienus and his supporters when I can see plainly and with my own eyes just how right they are.”

“Fronto…”

“And the thing is that I’d be willing to support you, even then, in your insane endeavours to the very edge of the world in search of glory and prestige if it weren’t for the company you insist on keeping and the little regard you show for common decency.”

“I’ve almost had enough of this Fronto.”

“And so have I.”

Fronto stepped forward and leaned on the table, his face only two feet from the general’s.

“Your man abducted and held my sister and you have the temerity to give him a mild ticking off? And your two new pet tribunes, who you may not see around as much in the future, spend the better part of a year carving their way through some of the best men in your army, and all you can muster is mild disappointment.”

He straightened again.

“I’ve had enough of the politics, the uncertainty and the infighting. I’ve had enough of bringing war to ever more distant peoples simply to gain you a little political advantage over Pompey and Crassus. I’ve had enough of my family living in danger because of my allegiance to you. In short, Caesar, I hereby sever all ties to the Julii. I no longer consider you my patron and you can cross me off your client list. You can keep your campaigns and you’re welcome to them. Good luck in your future endeavours.”

Without even a nod, Fronto turned his back on the general and strode from the room. He felt the presence of the two centurions at his shoulders as he strode away and, though he was aware of the general demanding he turn round, he felt lighter and freer with every step towards the street. By the time he stepped from Caesar’s door into the crisp, late autumn blue of the Subura he felt happier than he had in years.

“Well I think that calls for a drink. Are you too coming to share a wine with a former colleague?”

Fabius laughed. “I don’t know about ‘former’ yet. We’re signed away by Priscus until after Saturnalia now. And after a winter in your company I’m not convinced of our fitness for service in the legions again.”

Fronto gave a slightly manufactured laugh. While he could treat such comments lightly, Fabius must be thinking hard in truth about his fitness for command now, given the impairment of his missing eye. Such a thing had been known in centurions, but it would make everything a tiny bit more difficult.

He sighed and felt the happiness flood through him..

“Have either of you two ever sampled the delights of beautiful Puteoli?”

THE END

Fu
ll Glossary of Terms

Amphora
(pl. Amphorae):
A large pottery storage container, generally used for wine or olive oil.

Aquilifer
:
a specialised standard bearer that carried a legion’s eagle standard
.

Buccina
:
A curved horn-like musical instrument used primarily by the military for relaying signals, along with the cornu.

Capsarius
: Legionary soldiers trained as combat medics, whose job was to patch men up in the field until they could reach a hospital.

Contubernium
(pl. Contubernia): the smallest division of unit in the Roman legion, numbering eight men who shared a tent.

Cornu
:
A G-shaped horn-like musical instrument used primarily by the military for relaying signals, along with the buccina. A trumpeter was called a cornicen.

Curia
: the meeting place of the senate in the forum of
Rome
.

Cursus Honorum
: The ladder of political and military positions a noble Roman is expected to ascend.

Decurion
: 1) The civil council of a Roman town. 2) Lesser cavalry officer, serving under a cavalry prefect, with command of 32 men.

Dolabra
: entrenching tool, carried by a legionary, which served as a shovel, pick and axe combined.

Duplicarius
: A soldier on double the basic pay.

Equestrian
: The often wealthier, though less noble mercantile class, known as knights.

Gladius
:
the Roman army’s standard short, stabbi
ng sword, originally based on a
Spanish sword design.

Immunes
:
Soldiers
excused from routine legionary duties as they possesed specialised skills which qualified them for other duties.

Labrum
: Large dish on a pedestal filled with fresh water in the hot room of a bath house.

Legatus
: Commander of a Roman legion

Mare Nostrum
: Latin name for the
Mediterranean Sea
(literally ‘Our Sea’)

Optio
: A legionary centurion’s second in command.

Pilum
: the army’s standard javelin, with a wooden stock and a long, heavy lead point.

Praetor
: a title granted to the commander of an army. cf the Praetorian Cohort.

Praetorian Cohort
:
personal bodyguard of a General
.

Primus Pilus
: The chief centurion of a legion. Essentially the second in command of a legion.

Pugio
:
the standard broad bladed dagger of the Roman military
.

Scorpion, Ballista & Onager
: Siege engines. The Scorpion was a large crossbow on a stand, the Ballista a giant missile throwing crossbow, and the Onager a stone hurling catapult.

Signifer
:
A century’s standard bearer, also responsible for dealing with pay, burial club and much of a unit’s bureaucracy.

Subura
: a lower-class area of ancient
Rome
, close to the forum, that was home to the red-light district
’.