Marius' Mules II: The Belgae (6 page)

“
Go back to the gate and take the others with you.”

One of the
legionaries stepped forward slightly.

“
Sir?” he said, gesturing at the camp prefect.

Balventius
turned his baleful glare on the man.

“
Go!”

Hurriedly, the
two men left the room, shutting the door behind them. Balventius
waited a moment, listening to the brief flutter of conversation and
then the soldiers leaving, and then allowed his shoulders to sag
slightly.

“
Alright, we’re alone now. Go on…”

Paetus placed
the flats of his palms on the table and fixed Balventius with a
steady gaze.

“
I’m Caesar’s man, not Clodius’. I’m no traitor and, truth be
told, I would rather stay a thousand miles from Clodius, given the
choice.”

The scarred
centurion frowned.

“
Then why are you on that list?”

Paetus
sighed.

“
My father in law owed him a lot of money; and I mean a lot of
money. He was an idiot and ran up a gambling debt like the loot of
the Cilician pirates. He couldn’t pay anything back and when
Clodius’ thugs started threatening my wife as well, I stepped in.
Problem is: things just sort of spiralled out of control. Clodius
is a monster and he’s not above casual violence. One of his other
clients went broke and flatly refused to pay him. They burned his
house down with his children inside.”

Balventius
shrugged.

“
Not that I don’t sympathise, Paetus, but that’s not really our
concern. You deal with your personal issues and you keep them away
from the rest of us. You need to sever your ties with Clodius or
with Caesar. If you denounce Clodius, I’ll support you, and I’m
pretty sure most of the staff will too. If not, I’ll have to carry
out Caesar’s wishes, and I suspect it’ll go badly for
you.”

Paetus
sighed.

“
As I said, Clodius is a monster. I am under no illusion that
Caesar is anything other than a political opportunist, but Clodius
is in a different class. I would happily walk away from the man,
but I can’t tell Caesar anything useful to him, because I simply
don’t know anything.”

Balventius
frowned and the prefect continued.

“
And Clodius isn’t interested in me paying him back now. He
wants to have his hooks into people. I tried to pay off my
father-in-law’s debts a few months ago but he wouldn’t have it. I
suspect I’m too useful to him as I am. And if I renounce him as a
patron, Calida and her family will turn up skewered in a ditch and
I’ve no intention of allowing that to happen.”

He
shrugged.

“
You see my problem, centurion?”

Balventius
nodded. It was a problem, for certain. Paetus was in trouble
whichever way he turned. Unless…

A slow smile
began to crawl across his face.

“
You find this funny, Balventius?”

“
No,” the scarred centurion replied, fixing him with that one
good eye. “But I have an idea. There’s a way we could turn this to
our advantage, Paetus.”

“
Whose advantage?” the man asked suspiciously.

“
Largely Caesar’s... and yours.”

He leaned on
the table and faced the prefect.

“
I need to speak to the staff and then to Caesar when he
arrives. In the meantime, I trust you’re happy glossing over this
as though it never happened?”

Paetus
nodded.

“
Then you get back to your work and I’ll get back to
mine.”

Turning, he
pulled the door open and strode, blinking, out into the sunlight,
leaving a dazed prefect sitting in the dark and pondering an
uncertain future.

* * * * *

Labienus
leaned forward across the desk, his eyes blazing.

“
You did what?”

“
I let him go” repeated Balventius.

Balbus
wandered across and stood next to his primus pilus.

“
He’s got good instincts, Labienus. I might have done the
same.”

“
Oh, very noble” Labienus spat. “All well and good, but Caesar
might not see it that way. He gave us specific
instructions!”

“
If I might interject?” Crispus spoke up from his
seat.

“
What?”

“
The actual instructions Caesar sent were to detain him, which
is exactly how the centurion proceeded; to extract a confession,
which Balventius did; and to do whatever was necessary to get
information. Although it might take a moment for the general to
calm down and accept it, we have, in fact, followed his
instructions precisely.”

Labienus
glared at the young legate.

“
Great. Just wonderful. Alright, Balventius. What are you
proposing?”

The primus
pilus shrugged.

“
This could be turned to the general’s advantage, but someone
will need to persuade him of that. This Clodius, from what I
understand, is trying to undermine Caesar with the
senate?”

“
Yes.”

“
And he believes he has Paetus by the balls.”

“
Yes” replied Labienus again, impatiently.

“
Then he has no reason to doubt anything Paetus tells
him.”

Fronto,
freshly bathed and shaved, gave a brief, thoughtful chuckle.

“
That could work out very nicely for Caesar. He could send all
sorts of misinformation to the man; make him look like an idiot.
The general should see the appeal of that.”

He turned to
Balventius.

“
Has Paetus agreed to this, then? It could put his family in a
lot of danger.”

Balventius
nodded.

“
He hasn’t agreed yet, ‘cause I haven’t asked him yet, sir. But
what choice has he got? He’s pretty much got to agree. We ought to
work out something to make sure his family are safe first, though,
if what I hear about this Clodius is true.”

The room fell
into a thoughtful silence.

After a long
pause, Crispus sat up with a deep frown.

“
I…”

He was
interrupted by a hammering at the door.

Labienus
turned, irritably.

“
Enter!”

The door swung
open to reveal a legionary standing in the doorway at an
approximation of attention, his face a plum colour and sweat
pouring down from his hairline. The man had clearly run fast and
hard.

“
What is it?” Labienus asked the exhausted soldier.

“
Sir…” the man managed, his breathing laboured. “The general is
at the gate…” wheeze… “with his praetorians.” Another ragged
breath. “He’s on his way now, sir.”

Labienus
nodded.

“
Thank you, soldier.”

As the
legionary closed the door and disappeared, the interim commander
pushed his seat back and stood with a sigh.

“
Well, gentlemen. It appears things are about to start
moving.”

The officers
in the room shuffled as they stood, brushing the creases out of
their tunics and cloaks and straightening their belts.

Out in the
corridor, they heard heavy booted footsteps and soldiers crashing
to attention. They stood smartly and waited. Moments later the door
opened and the young moon-face of Aulus Ingenuus, commander of the
general’s guards, appeared with a broad smile. Fronto stared.
Ingenuus was still little more than two years under the eagles, yet
he had, though bravery and a little luck, secured one of the most
prestigious positions in the army. The change in him over a single
winter was noticeable, though. While he still had his air of
youthful innocence, his face had taken on a hard edge, defined
slightly by an unfashionable but neatly-trimmed beard. Moreover, he
had acquired a fine scar that ran down his cheek to his jaw; the
reason, Fronto suspected, for his new beard.

Ingenuus’ grin
widened as he took in the faces round the room. They had no time to
exchange pleasantries, however, as he immediately stepped aside and
jammed his plumed helmet under his arm, to make room for the
general.

Caesar strode
purposefully into the room, waving an arm in a vague fashion of
greeting without letting his gaze settle on the men. Fronto eyed
his commander as Labienus stood aside and vacated the chair and the
general approached the desk. Caesar looked older somehow. His hair
had receded a little further and thinned noticeably and his face
looked slightly pale and drawn, as though sleep, never easy for the
great man, was now coming rarely and sporadically. Politics was
clearly causing the general a great deal more grief that Fronto had
realised.

Without a word
of greeting to any of them, Caesar dropped his helmet
unceremoniously on the desk and appeared to pay attention to the
miscellaneous papers on the table, leaning over them with his palms
flat down.

“
Is Crassus gone?”

Labienus
straightened.

“
The instructions have been delivered, Caesar, but only just.
Pedius only arrived today with the new legions. I expect Crassus is
making preparations to get underway. With respect, general, we
weren’t expecting you yet?”

Caesar
grunted.

“
So we have seven legions at our disposal here and Crassus will
be leaving today. That’s acceptable. What of Paetus?”

There was a
pause.

“
Come on!” barked the general.

Balbus cleared
his throat.

“
The prefect was detained and questioned, Caesar.”

“
And?”

Balventius
took a deep breath.

“
And it is clear to me that he knows nothing of any conspiracy,
Caesar. He is…”

The general’s
arm shot out accusingly in the direction of the primus pilus of the
eighth.

“
Tell me you have him under arrest.”

“
With respect general, I allowed him to retain his position
while we…”

He was
interrupted as Caesar swept his arm across the table, wiping his
helmet onto the floor where it landed with a dull thud and rolled
slowly back and forth.

“
His head, or your head, centurion. It’s your
choice!”

Fronto cleared
his throat and deliberately stepped forward between Balventius and
the general’s accusing finger.

“
Caesar, he’s right. I agreed with him; we all did.”

The general
fell quiet for a moment and his head dropped forward so that he
faced the surface of the table. Fronto held his breath; this could
go either way. He swallowed nervously as the general looked up. The
remaining colour had drained from his face and his eyes burned with
cold fury.

“
Get out!”

Crispus
reached the door first and almost threw himself out of it, closely
followed by Balbus and then Labienus. Pedius and Balventius
followed quickly, avoiding looking back at the furious commander.
Fronto, however, remained perfectly still, his arms folded. From
the doorway Balbus beckoned to him. Fronto shook his head and
motioned for his peer to close the door. As Balbus, bearing a
worried frown, pulled the portal to with a click, Fronto cleared
his throat. Caesar had not taken his eyes off the legate before
him; moreover, he’d not even blinked.

“
Caesar, you need to hear me out.”

The general
glared at him.

“
You push me too far, Fronto. I am the commander of this army;
the governor. We’re a long way from Rome and a long way from the
senate. Out here, I am imperator. I gave out orders and they’ve
been disobeyed by the entire cadre of my senior staff.”

Fronto
shrugged and held the general’s stare, calmly.

“
That’s not what’s bothering you, Caesar. You know we always
act in your best interest. What’s happened?”

Caesar’s glare
remained but, as Fronto watched, the heat slowly went out of
it.

“
The senate. A group of bickering old women, the lot of them.
None of them will give me any room to manoeuvre. Clodius spins in
the centre like an enraged bear; ripping at anyone he can get his
paws near, seemingly at random. He’s trying to undo almost anything
I try, but it’s not just me; he rakes at all the others. Then
there’s Cato, who seems to want nothing more than to plunge a knife
into my back. Even Cicero! A few years ago I invited the man to
partner with Pompey, Crassus and myself, even though Crassus
disapproved! I even gave his brother a position on my staff, and
how does he repay me? By denouncing my every move to the senate as
nothing more than self-promotion.”

He growled and
hammered his index finger down onto the surface of the table so
hard that he almost broke it.

“
Mark my words: the days of the senate are slowly coming to an
end.”

Fronto
grimaced.

“
I mean it, Marcus. We threw the kings out of Rome because they
were corrupt and useless. But what are these meddling morons if not
corrupt and useless. Rome will never accept a king again, but it
has to find something better than this!”

He sighed and
sank back into the chair.

“
I apologise, Fronto. My whole winter has been spent fending
off political attacks and I tire of it. I returned to Vesontio
early because there’s an honesty in soldiering that the senate
lacks.”

Fronto nodded
earnestly. Caesar and he could disagree on many things, but with
that point he could find no room to argue.

Caesar reached
down and collected his helmet, brushing the dust from the
plume.