Marius' Mules IV: Conspiracy of Eagles (4 page)

“Brace yourself.”

Stepping aside, he watched with some satisfaction as Faleria and Lucilia mobbed the large
Gaul
, almost knocking him from his feet and chattering their pleasure at his arrival. Turning his attention from the spectacle, Fronto snapped open the wooden tablet again and ran his eyes down the message within.

Caesar’s handwriting had always been tight, small and economic, though gifted with an almost oratorical turn of phrase even in such short form.

To M Falerius Fronto from C Iulius Caesar, Proconsul of
Gaul
,

Felicitations.

Having received tidings of your joyous situation, it is with regret that I now send news of the opening of the campaigning season.

Fronto frowned. How in the name of the seven whores of Capernum had the general heard of his predicament?

It had been my intention to travel late to Gaul, perhaps even during Maius, since there have been no signs of renewed insurrection or hostility to the Roman state and the missives from my subordinates have assured me that the process of drawing Gaul into the fold proceeds apace.

Again, Fronto frowned. The letter had been clearly written carefully in case it should fall into the wrong hands, or perhaps Caesar had even expected Galronus to open it en route? Fronto remembered clearly his last conversation with the general, when the man had avowed his intent to take the Pax Romana and stuff it down the throat of the next Celtic nation he found.

However, it would appear that a number of Germanic tribes
, driven from their own lands by a vast eastern tribe of even more unyielding barbarians, have crossed the Rhenus and settled in the lands of our Belgae subjects, defending their presence with extreme violence. While it has never been the intention of
Rome
or this proconsulate to bring war to those tribes beyond that great river,

Fronto rolled his eyes at the line and shook his head.

it is now clearly necessary to mobilize the legions in northern
Gaul
to repel these invaders and support our Belgic people. To this end, I am summoning all of my officers to return to their commands at their earliest convenience. A trireme under my command is docked at
Ostia
, and has begun to make the journey to and from Massilia as required in order to ferry said officers to the nearest port.

Our Graeco-Gallic allies in Massilia have agreed to provide a place in their agora for a staging post for us. From there, you will be required to travel north along the Rhodanus, past the allied townships of
Vienna
and Vesontio, with which you will be familiar. The army will be encamped close to the oppidum of Divoduron in the lands of the Mediomatrici some one hundred and fifty miles to the north of Vesontio.

I trust you will be able to reach your command by the Kalends of Maius.

In the name of the senate and people of
Rome
.

Your friend,

Caius.

Fronto looked up from the note to see that the clamorous reunion between his friend and the women of the household seemed to have died down. Galronus was looking at him over the heads of the two women, a question in his eyes. Fronto nodded silently.

“Come on ladies. Let our guest at least recover a little from his journey before you bombard him with questions. We’ll come and meet you in the triclinium within the hour.”

Lucilia flashed him a hard look that he prudently ignored, but Faleria caught his eye and must have recognised something, for she nodded and clasped Lucilia’s hand.

“Come on. Let the boys play for a while. They have such little time to act like children.”

Lucilia frowned and the two women made for the doorway to the triclinium, while Fronto collected Galronus’ bag and led him off toward the far end of the villa, where he was wont to pass the time.

“You read the message?”

“I did. He moves earlier than I expected.”

From across the room, a sharp female voice snapped out.

“
What
?”

Fronto turned in surprise and realised that the two ladies had not yet fully left the room, pausing instead to chat in the doorway. He cursed inwardly for having spoken openly and too soon.

“Nothing, Lucilia. We’ll be along shortly.”

But the dark haired girl had already torn herself from Faleria’s grasp and was storming across the atrium so resolutely Fronto feared she would walk straight through the impluvium pool in the centre without noticing.

“Lucilia…”

“No! You’re
leaving
? It’s too early. You said you wouldn’t go until the end of Aprilis. My father is going to
Rome
in a few weeks. I was going to take you there to meet him. We need to speak to him.”

Fronto quailed and stepped back as the whirlwind of furious womanhood approached.

“It’s just a few more months, Lucilia. I’ll be back before winter, and then…”

“No. I will not spend a whole extra summer as a guest with no formal ties to the house. You persuaded me not to travel in winter, else we’d have seen father sooner. You’ll not delay our betrothal any further.”

“Lucilia, I
have
to go. I have been summoned to my post by the Proconsul of Gaul. It’s only half a year. I’ve waited this long, after all…” he regretted the words almost before they’d left his tongue and the colour draining from the face of the young lady threatened a violent disagreement and likely some thrown crockery.

Galronus opened his mouth and took a pace forward, but Lucilia held a hand up, palm facing him.

“No. You find somewhere to make yourself comfortable. Marcus and I are going to have a talk.”

Fronto cast one desperate, pleading look at Galronus as Lucilia grabbed his arm and, yanking, turned him back to the door before dragging him through it. The large
Gaul
carefully avoided meeting his gaze and then turned back to the atrium, wondering whether it would be possible to follow them and ask for his travelling bag. Prudence won out and he decided against it.

“Galronus, it has been too long.”

He smild at Faleria and stepped around the small pool towards her.

“Have they been like this all winter?”

Faleria nodded. “I think he missed male company. You should have come earlier.”

Galronus cast an embarrassed eye down to the floor. ”I had… other pursuits. The games; the racing; I even watched one of your plays, although it lacks the power of the storytellers among my people. The masks are funny, though. And some of the singing made me laugh,”

Faleria nodded encouragingly. She daren’t ask what play he had attended; she was almost certain it would have been a tragedy. Certainly with Galronus in the audience laughing like a gurgling drain.

“How long will you be here? Are you taking him straight away?”

Galronus shrugged. “I think we can squeeze a few days out. The traders in
Rome
say that the sea is remarkably calm even for the time of year, so we will make good time, especially if we take a ship straight from Neapolis or Puteoli, rather than riding back to
Rome
.”

Faleria smiled wickedly. “Marcus does so love to travel by sea. I think we can defuse the situation between the two young lovebirds. If you travel to
Gaul
by ship, you will make landfall at Massilia. Lucilia and I will accompany you thus far, where we can meet with Balbus, her father, and sort this mess out.”

“You will come too?”

Faleria smiled benignly. “Would you seriously expect Marcus to cope with all the betrothal arrangements himself? No, I think I should accompany you to straighten it all out.”

* * * * *

“I do
not
wear socks!”

Lucilia glared at Fronto and snatched the woollen garments from his hand, stuffing them back into his pack.

“Yes you do. You’ll be traipsing through soggy swamps above the roof of the world. Do you really want your toes to rot and fall off? Because I do not.”

“I don’t
need
socks because I wear boots that are perfectly sized and shaped to my feet. They’re closed boots and nice and dry and there’s no room in them for both socks and my feet.”

“You’re not taking your old boots.”

Fronto blinked and sraighten ined.

“Now listen…”

“You cannot take your boots, Marcus. I threw them out last week.”

Fronto tried to say something but it came out only as indignant splutters.

“I saw the manufacturer’s mark on them, Marcus. Those boots were nearly as old as me. And they smelled of stale urine.”

“Of course! That’s how you shape them to your feet. It took me nearly a year’s pissing to make them comfortable enough for a thirty mile march.”

Lucilia shook her head calmly.

“You’re a senior officer from a patrician family and currently the legatus of a legion. You ride; you don’t need to march.”

Fronto stared at her.

“Besides, you have a thoroughbred horse of unsurpassed quality. It would be wasteful not to run him. Now try on the boots over there. They’re light leather with a fleece inner to help you in the harsh climates of
Gaul
.”

Fronto’s gaze snapped back and forth between the boots on the chair and the woman pointing at them.

“Is there any chance that at some point in the past
you
have commanded a legion, too?”

Lucilia said nothing, but simply gestured impatiently at the boots.

With a sigh, he capitulated.

* * * * *

Fronto staggered along the deck and reached an empty stretch of rail almost in time to vomit copiously over the side without splattering the deck. His face had been a pale grey for the past two days, with only a brief return of colour during the overnight stop at Antium.

“Did you use the embrocation the nice Greek gave you?”

Fronto spat into the water and tried not to concentrate on the way it moved, undulated, wobbled, oscillated…

After another copious session of dry heaving, Fronto wiped his mouth again and look across at Lucilia at the rail nearby; neatly keeping her sandaled feet out of the mess he had left.

“No I didn’t. It smells like feet. I hadn’t thrown up until I opened the jar and smelled it. That’s what set this whole thing off.”

“Rubbish. And I expect you’ve not had any of the ginger root?”

“It makes me hiccup.”

“And vomiting is preferable to hiccupping, is it?”