Hades' Gate mm-5, page 36
part #5 of Marius mules Series
But Nasica had served in the Eighth too many years for comfort. He would sooner twist off his own head than see that eagle fall to the Eburones or their allies. And, of course, news of this disaster had to be brought to Caesar.
The three men took a deep breath and leapt up from the camp's outer ditch, running for that forbidding forest.
Halfway across the long stretch of open ground, the veteran glanced back.
Just once.
The fight was beginning at the far side of the camp and the sheer numbers of the natives that were pouring across the grass to the ditch made the result inevitable.
It was over before they reached the 'safety' of darkness beneath the boughs of Arduenna's great woodland. Nasica cast up a quick prayer for the departure of Balventius and Petrosidius, and never looked back again.
Chapter Fifteen
NOVEMBRIS
Balbus strolled slowly out of the bedroom, closing the door carefully and shaking his head.
"Still nothing?" Fronto enquired soothingly.
Another shake.
"She had a shock that no little girl should have. It's going to take her a while. Your Jewish friend is convinced it's all in her mind, though, and there's no physical damage."
"She's my little girl, Marcus. I'm going to gut someone for this."
"I think you need to calm down again, Quintus. Every time you look at Balbina you start to boil over. If you go mad off the leash and start chasing that big Germanic killer, they'll be mopping you up off the street. Masgava's the only one of us who would stand a chance against that thing. I think we're all agreed that we need to deal with him carefully, with prior planning."
"I don't care how it happens, but he needs to be removed from this world for what he's done, Marcus."
Fronto nodded. "No argument from me. For now, though, we need to deal with the dice as they've landed. It's been nine days, and we should already have arranged the funeral rites and feast for tonight. I'll grant you've been a little preoccupied with Balbina, but for Corvinia's sake it still should be done. I'll ask Galronus and Palmatus to head to the markets and bring back the supplies. I think even Masgava might relent on the free-flowing wine tonight."
Balbus nodded slowly. The entire group had now spent over a week closeted away in Fronto's house. The Jewish physician and the retired legionary seemed to have become an almost constant fixture, only occasionally returning to their residences to deal with their own affairs. He was starting to wonder what he would have done without the pair.
"The rest of the family should be there, Fronto — at the feast."
"All the random cousins and uncles can mourn in their own time and ways. It's more important that she is remembered by those of us who were close. It's a shame that Lucilia won't be here, but…"
He fell silent, aware that he'd just dredged up yet another worry for his friend. Balbus had been putting off writing the letter to his daughter, and Lucilia was still blissfully unaware of events.
"Anyway" he went on, "we'll have to take wine to the mausoleum. We'll have to be damn careful this evening that we don't fall foul of Berengarus somewhere in the back streets. On the bright side, with you and me, Galronus, Masgava, Palmatus and Elijah I very much doubt the German bastard will try anything. One against six would be suicide even for him. And I think those of us who held military rank should go in full uniform. The swords will have to stay covered until we're out of the city, but we'll be armed and armoured. Should be enough to put off any potential attack."
"Let him come" Balbus growled.
"Everything in good time. First thing's first: we pay due honour and respect to Corvinia. Then we have to decide what to do about the girls down in Puteoli and how we handle Pompey's pet killer."
A knock at the front door echoed around the atrium in which they stood and Fronto frowned. The six people who had any business in the house were already here, Palmatus and Galronus sparring with Masgava in the peristyle garden and Elijah watching them from a bench where he was poring through Lucilia's collection of texts on plants and herbs.
Balbus shot him a look, his hand going to the gladius at his waist that had only been removed in the last nine days to facilitate sleep, and that had come in only short and disturbed bursts. Fronto's eyes dropped to the hilt and the fingers caressing it. Several times over the past week he'd had to hold his tongue against expressing his disapproval of the old man being armed in the house, but now, at that single knock, being armed suddenly seemed a good idea and his mind's eye roved back across the garden with its sparring warriors to the storehouse of his father with the swords hanging inside.
"Be ready, just in case."
As Balbus nodded, Fronto padded barefoot across to the front door, catching sight of himself in the long bronze mirror Lucilia had installed in the entrance hall to adjust her clothing before heading out into public.
He cut a very different figure to the man who had stood here and complained about the cost of the enormous mirror. Gone was every ounce of fat, replaced with rippling muscles of the sort he'd not had since the days he served in Hispania. His stance was straight and tall, not the slightly curved and leaning posture of a man with a cripplingly painful knee and a tender back. His eyes were bright, missing the pinkness that was their customary shade. He'd even taken to shaving more than once a week. He had to admit that he looked a decade younger.
Lucilia would hardly recognise him.
A second knock reminded him of where he was and he turned and opened the door with a quick nod to Balbus at the side of the entrance hall.
Fronto's first reaction to the figure standing on the step outside was one of unleashing pent-up anger. His hands twitched as they reached up and out towards the man's neck, but he stopped them with a great effort of willpower and lowered them back to his sides.
Publius Clodius Pulcher!
The man was becoming something of a recluse at the moment. While his gangs were still prowling the streets and causing mayhem, occasionally clashing with rivals, the man himself had taken to staying at his palatial and secure townhouse much of the time, only venturing out into the streets when required, and then with a sizeable bodyguard. While his reputation seemed to have lost some of its former tarnish through his close ties to the peoples' beloved Caesar, he was still well-despised by a number of the more important figures in the city — including Pompey and Milo — and his life may well be endangered should he let his defences slip too far.
And now he was standing not three feet from Fronto — a man who had more reasons than most to wring his scrawny neck.
The bodyguard were there, though.
While Clodius stood defenceless and easy before Fronto, the street behind was filled with his killers, leaning against walls and doorways, watching every space intently. He must feel damn certain that Fronto was no impulsive killer.
It was touch and go whether the man was right.
Fronto glanced once back at Balbus, whose blade had slipped a few finger-widths from its scabbard. He wondered for just a moment how much good it would do the city just to nod and let Balbus go to work. The older ex-officer was usually too reasoned and honourable a man to even consider such an act, but recent events had robbed a lot of that reason and his eyes were those of a man prepared to take lives.
Besides, the old man had been one of the voices instrumental in separating Fronto from Caesar, and this creature on the doorstep was Caesar's man in both body and soul now.
"What do you want?"
"And good morning to you, Fronto. Might I come in and take a few moments of your time?"
Fronto tried to put the full extent of his feelings into his look.
"I try not to let rats nest in my house. I say again, what do you want?"
Clodius smiled, but not like a rat. It was strange and oily, like a snake smiling.
"I need to speak to you, Fronto, and what I have to say is not for any wagging ears in the street, or even for your noble friends inside. This is for you alone. I would speak in private, man to man."
"Man to mollusc, perhaps! After everything you've done, you expect me to actually invite you into my house."
"My bodyguard will stay outside, Fronto, and I am entirely unarmed."
The former legate of the Tenth turned and looked at Balbus, back in the hallway. The older man shrugged.
"I will spare you a few moments," he replied, turning back again, "but bear in mind that I have a number of trained fighters in this house and if I don't like what I hear I might just let them get to work on you. It would, I'm sure, be a benefit to all mankind."
Clodius' snake-grin widened. "Thank you for your generous and charming acceptance. Shall we?"
Fronto stepped to one side to allow the toga-clad nobleman entry, loading his gaze with threat as he cast it around the various thugs in the street outside. Clodius nodded amiably to Balbus and strode into the atrium, where he stopped and looked around appreciatively. Behind him Fronto closed the door on the bodyguards and tried not to think how easy it would be to do away with one of Rome's most dangerous and hated men right now.
"I see your builders have done an excellent job reconstructing the house. I am pleased. Very unfortunate what transpired here a few years ago."
"Unfortunate?" Fronto snapped as he re-entered the atrium. "As memory serves, it was your doing."
"The ebb and flow of politics in Rome are unpredictable, Fronto, and sometimes some unpleasant silt and debris is carried in to shore. I most profoundly regret what happened and assure you that I hold no ill-will towards you."
Fronto blinked in disbelief. "You hold no ill-will toward me?"
The man continued to smile and Fronto felt the distinct urge to knock his teeth down his throat. He also noted that a statement of regret was hardly the same thing as an apology.
"Can we step into somewhere private to talk?"
Fronto frowned at the voluminous toga. "Keep in mind that I'm fast these days. Any concealed knife is unlikely to get as far as my skin before your nose gets broken."
"I told you I was unarmed."
"If I told you your presence didn't offend, would that necessarily be a truth?"
Clodius laughed lightly, a sound that merely heightened Fronto's irritation. "You are a piece of work, Fronto. I can see why the general valued you so."
"Caesar and I may not be on the best of terms at this point, Clodius, but he has at times commanded my utmost respect. You, however, rate little more than something I scrape off my boot. Come on. Let's make this quick. Every moment you spend under this roof threatens to make me vomit."
Ignoring the look of genuine humour on the man's face, Fronto directed him to one of the unused bedrooms, where they could speak in private. As Clodius strode across the floor and sat primly on one of the twin chairs by the desk, Fronto simply closed the door and leaned against it.
"Talk, then."
"I come with an offer, Fronto; a one-time offer."
"There is nothing you can offer me that I could want."
"Don't be so sure."
Clodius reached into his toga, causing Fronto to flinch momentarily. Despite the man's words, he half expected a knife to emerge. What actually appeared, however, was a rod around a foot long, wrapped in a leather strip that was wound around it in a long spiral.
"You know what this is?"
"It's a scytale. Caesar used to use them to transmit coded messages."
Clodius smiled. "He still does. This one's all ready." He handed it to Fronto, who took it gingerly and turned it slowly, reading the words picked out by their position on the baton.
RECRUITOFFICERSURGENTLY
He passed it back and leaned once more.
"Recruit?"
"Caesar needs good men. He is facing a great deal of difficulty in Rome, for certain, with Pompey's ties now severed and Crassus absent, as I'm sure you are well aware, and the death of his daughter has hurt him on such a level that he has not even brought himself to mention it since hearing the news. I fear he still denies the truth of it." He sighed. "It also seems that your old comrade Priscus has uncovered something that threatens Caesar's position in Gaul. I am to recruit, as you saw — and urgently. Implied is a fairly open mandate from the general, but he also had some specifics for me in another communique."
"You want me to run back to Caesar?"
"It has come to my attention that you are rapidly building a group of dangerous enemies in the city. You need the support of the powerful and a level of security that you cannot yourself provide for your friends and family. Caesar can supply the former. I can supply the latter in his name."
Fronto snorted and folded his arms.
"Even if Caesar would have me back, you are deranged if you think for one moment that I would place my family in your devious hands."
"Caesar has mentioned you by name in one of our many missives. You angered him when you turned your back on him last winter, but he is a reasonable man, and a brilliant one. He knows your value and would make this offer himself were he here. But it is, as I say, a one-time offer. Neither he nor I can afford to waste a great deal of time securing your support. He needs you in Gaul more than he ever has, but if you are not ready to take this deal, then I have others to approach in his name and I cannot afford to tarry for games. Time is of the essence."
Fronto frowned, shaking his head slightly. It was a surprising offer and despite the fact that he would trust a snake sooner than this man, there was little doubt that he spoke the truth. After all, it must be irking Clodius to have to come here with such an offer after the trouble Fronto had dealt him in the past. And to have to enter this house unarmed was a tremendous risk. Caesar must not have asked him to do it; he must have demanded it.
"I am not unaware of the value of the offer, Clodius, and you can transmit to Caesar a genuine apology that I cannot accept it, but there are matters that need to be attended to here before I can even consider any future moves, and while I would still consider serving Caesar again, I will not ever, in the world of men, place the wellbeing of my loved ones into your treacherous, wicked, devious hands. If it is a one-time offer then I regret saying no, but no it must be."
Clodius straightened.
"Sad that your anger blinds you to possibilities. Your distrust of me is greater than your need to stand in the field once more? To conquer the barbarian? To avenge your friend Crispus?"
Fronto stepped away from the door for a moment, his arms unfolding.
"What?"
"I can believe that you detach yourself from the deaths of so many unnamed comrades at the hands of those Gallic savages, but I am led to understand that young Crispus was a close friend. Have you not the urge to chastise his killers?"
"Crispus?" Fronto snapped, stepping forward again. His mind filled with flashes of the young legate, his fresh, boyish face at odds with the uniform he wore. In another world, Crispus might have been his son. He was actually of an age to be, and yet was as good a friend as Balbus in the next room.
"Crispus is dead?"
Clodius' face became a picture of surprise and Fronto narrowed his eyes. The man appeared to be genuinely taken aback.
"You haven't been informed? Strange. He fell to a treacherous Gaul some months ago during an attempted escape by an Aeduan prisoner. His ashes were brought back to the city and will be interred in the family mausoleum by now." He stood slowly. "I do apologise for breaking the news so suddenly. I assumed you knew. I feel bound to make one last plea on behalf of our mutual benefactor. Caesar needs good men in Gaul and he recognises you as one of them. Will you go?"
Fronto turned and pulled open the door he had been leaning against. His eyes were cold and flinty. "Tell the general in your next letter that I am truly sorry to decline and that in the future, when circumstances allow, I would reconsider, but for now I must look to my family."
Clodius nodded.
"Then I had best leave. Perhaps Caesar will extend his generosity in future times. I would rather we served the same master than meet as enemies."
Fronto's glare hardened further. "If I ever return to Caesar, it will be to serve with him, not to serve him and, whatever the future might hold, you and I will never be less than enemies. Pompey and Milo may be mutual adversaries, but the divide between you and I is uncrossable, Clodius Pulcher. Thank you for your offer but now you must leave, and you are no longer welcome in the house of the Falerii."
Clodius simply smiled his snake smile again and walked calmly past Fronto and out into the atrium. His host followed and paused for a moment in the doorway. Balbus now had his gladius unsheathed and was running the fingers of his left hand over the point in a decidedly threatening manner. A few paces away Galronus stood, arms folded, blocking the way out towards the garden, his face sour yet unreadable.
Crossing the atrium, Fronto opened the house's main door once more and waited as the unwelcome guest passed through and into the street. Clodius turned on the step to speak, but the door closed in his face as he began.
Turning back from the portal, Fronto peered into the atrium and walked slowly back towards the two men there.
"Crispus is dead."
His eyes narrowed as Balbus stepped back, this fresh unpleasant news managing even to break through the shell of obdurate and implacable emotionlessness that the older man had worn since the death of his wife. Galronus, however, looked distinctly uneasy.
"You knew?"
The Remi nobleman nodded slowly.
"How?"
"A letter from Priscus. It came for you a week or so ago."
"And you opened it?"
"You had a lot on your mind, as did Balbus. I saw no harm in it, but when I read the news…" he sighed. "Well, I hardly thought that this was the time to burden you both. After all, he didn't fall in battle, but was killed in cold blood by a rebel. You were in no fit state to hear that then. I thought perhaps in a month or two, when things had calmed down…"
Fronto's hand came up threateningly as he took a step angrily towards his friend, but Balbus was suddenly between them.
"He's right, Fronto. It's just added misery and another step on the stairway to Hades. Don't know about you, but I'd rather not have known. We'll mourn him tonight with Corvinia, and tomorrow we'll start work on revenge. First the Germanic monstrosity who killed my wife, and then we'll look to the sons of Celtic whores who killed our friend."
