Marius' Mules V: Hades' Gate (39 page)

Pompey took a deep breath. "I sought to ruin them, you know? Not to kill them. While I sympathise with your plight, I refuse to condone such actions. To have any man in my employ, be he freedman or slave, commit simple murder is unacceptable. Do you understand?"

With no sign of acknowledgement, the huge warrior simply stood and glowered.

"You truly desire nothing other than to destroy Fronto?"

A single nod.

"And you believe you can do it?"

Another nod.

"Then gather your things."

This time, the big man frowned again and Pompey took a deep breath and sat back.

"You cannot be part of my household if you are to hunt and kill a Roman citizen. Gather your things and return here. I will have the felt hat brought out for you - to mark your manumission. Only a freedman will have the liberty to engage in such a hunt. I will have your status logged with the officials at the tabularium and gift you a small sum to help you on your way."

Berengarus narrowed his eyes.

"For the love of Venus. I am freeing you, you big thug, so that you can do what you must. Now go and get ready!"

* * * * *

Fronto staggered back across the gravel, nimbly jumping the small pool in the garden's centre and landing on the far side, appreciating more than ever the growing strength in his previously bad knee.

Masgava was on him straight away, forcing him back among the plants, where he grasped the branches of a willow, using the trunk to keep the big Numidian at bay.

"Fronto!"

Shifting his eyes, his attention was distracted just long enough, and the flat of Masgava's blade rapped on his knuckles hard enough to make him drop the sword.

"Do not allow yourself to be distracted."

Fronto glared at him as he rubbed the painful knuckles and then turned to the doorway into the garden where Galronus stood, waving an arm.

"What?"

"It's Balbus."

"Tell him to go away. You know what to do."

"I don't think so, Fronto."

The former legate of the Tenth looked up past the shoulder of his Remi friend to see Balbus emerge from the shadows. The look on his face immediately alerted Fronto to the fact that something dreadful had happened. He was already rushing across the garden when another figure appeared behind Balbus: a grubby, unshaven ex-soldier by the looks of him, who Fronto didn't recognise.

"Quintus?"

"They've gone too far, Fronto."

"What?"

"Pompey. Milo. They've gone too far."

"Quintus, what's happened?"

Balbus stumbled past him and out into the sunlight of the garden. Fronto frowned at Galronus, who simply shrugged. His eyes shifted to the retired legionary, who looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"What happened?"

The soldier took a deep steadying breath. "The officer's wife. She was attacked in the forum."

Fronto felt his heart skip. "Corvinia? Is she alright?"

"Dead, Fronto" replied Balbus in a flat tone, turning in the garden. "A single sword stroke to the heart. I thought for a while that Balbina had been attacked too, but Elijah says he believes she fell and hit her head while coming to find me. She won't talk, though. She's broken, Marcus. My little girl is
broken
!"

Fronto shook his head. "Who's Elijah?" He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Ignore that. Are you sure it was Milo?"

"Who else? His men were all over the forum. It was no robbery, but an intentional death. They took my Corvinia, Marcus. I came here… didn't know what else to do."

"Of course. We'll look after things" Fronto said quietly, reaching out to grip his friend's shoulder. Balbus pulled away.

"I'm not here for sympathy, Fronto. I'm here to recruit."

"What?"

"Pompey wants war? Then Pompey can
have
war. You and I know soldiering, and between us we have money to hire enough men."

"Quintus, don't be daft. I'm sorry. I know it sounds harsh, but Pompey's retreated into his house like a recluse. He's all-but stopped hassling me and Faleria, barring a few ridiculous suits that'll be bouncing around the courts for months yet. I was even considering calling the girls back from Puteoli. Things are settling down, so I'm not sure that whatever happened - however horrible - was Pompey's doing.

Behind him someone cleared their throat, and Fronto turned to see the former legionary scratching his head. "With respect, sir, I'm not sure that's the case. I'm pretty sure someone's watching you both."

"What?"

"Well sir, I helped the legate here take the lady back to his house and we sorted things out with that Jewish feller and… well to cut a long story short, it was about two and a half hours before we set off over here. I can't exactly pinpoint it, but I've been in enough shitty situations in my life to recognise when I'm being followed. Someone was behind us all the way here. And when we got here this big heap of hairy shit about nine feet tall was standing on the far side of the street. He wandered off as soon as we arrived, but I'll tell you for free that he was watching your door."

Fronto rubbed his chin, bristly and sweaty from his exertions. The description was fairly vague, but could only really be describing one person in Rome.

"This is getting ridiculous. I left service to Caesar because of all the mistrust, in-fighting, backstabbing and general lunacy and thought to retire back to Rome or Puteoli and get married and everything would sort itself out; become straightforward. Instead, it just gets all the more complicated and I start to find out that there are people in this city alone that make Caesar look like a paragon of virtue."

With a deep breath and a shake of his head, he narrowed his eyes at the former legionary.

"You. I don't know what your name is, but take care of Balbus. He knows where everything's kept, though you'll be damned lucky if you find any wine. Keep him safe."

The man nodded and stepped out into the garden. Balbus, his bleak face suddenly concerned, turned. "Where are you going, Marcus?"

"A quiet word with the great Pompey. Galronus? Masgava? You two are with me."

* * * * *

"The Dominus is not accepting visitors."

Fronto took a step closer until his nose was a hand-breadth from the doorman's face. "He's accepting this one. Get out of the way."

Behind him, Masgava and Galronus crept forward a pace, adding an air of menace. While the Remi chief was unarmed, there was still an aura of violence surrounding him. The Numidian gladiator held a seven foot staff, shod with iron.

"Forgive me, sir, but I am not at liberty to flout my orders."

A face appeared in the gloom of the entry hall, visible over the slave's shoulder. Pompey had a naked gladius tight in his grip as he stood calm and steady. His toga was immaculate.

"Step aside, Aeropus."

The slave pushed the door wide and stepped behind it, revealing the entrance hall. As Fronto took an angry step inside the doorway, he became aware that other figures were moving in the shadows of doorways to the sides. While not as menacing as the two men at his shoulders, he counted at least six. Pompey took no chances; and being in a private residence and not on the streets they were not subject to the law against weapons. Blades flashed in the gloom.

"You've a nerve, Fronto."

"Cut the horse shit, Pompey. You've been unravelling like a badly-woven blanket for more than a month now and I could see from the start that you were capable of some rough moves, but I need you to look me in the eye right now and tell me you aren't responsible for Corvinia's death."

Pompey's face, impassive, shifted slightly into a sneer as he drew a deep breath to speak.

"And don't tell me you don't know who she is or hadn't heard" snapped Fronto.

"I was going to do nothing of the sort. I will place my hand - metaphorically - on the altar of Apollo and tell you that I am not responsible for her death. I wish the Lucilii no harm. I wouldn't waste the curse tablets - they all have your family name on them."

"And Milo and his thugs?"

"Milo and his men were uninvolved. Indeed it was he who apprised me of the matter, fearing I would suffer culpability."

Fronto peered deep into Pompey's eyes and was surprised to find no sign of duplicity. Suddenly unsure of what to do next, he paused, and then recalled the thing that had spurred him into the visit in the first place.

"And what of your big Germanic monster? Where is
he
, or have you still got him out spying on me?"

"Berengarus?" Pompey asked lightly. "I'm afraid you'd have to ask him that. I logged his manumission this morning. He is a free man no longer attached to my house. But I do know that he has something of a personal grudge against you, so if I were you I would find a good stout cellar to hide in until you grow old and die."

Fronto's eyes widened. "You freed that animal?"

"Yes. He'd served his purpose. I suspect he's to his own agenda now."

Masgava and Galronus were already backing away as Fronto stepped out of the door once more. "You're insane, Pompey."

"I anticipate news of your ending with relish, Fronto. Now unless you have other business with me, get away from my house and stop littering my step with your odious presence!"

Chapter Twelve

"I am reconsidering the disposition of the officers, Priscus."

The legate of the Tenth rolled his eyes, sure that his lowered face hid the gesture from the general. "A tough job, sir."

"I am very well aware of that. I have spent the past hour closeted away with my lists."

'The past hour?' thought Priscus. Since the army had arrived at the shores of Gaul the previous night and travelled uneventfully back to Gesoriacum to meet up with the Roman garrison, the general had spent the entire time in his headquarters, alone apart from occasional meetings that lasted but a few moments. Perhaps the general's voluntary solitude and his staccato attempts at organisation had something to do with the missive that had been awaiting them on their return and which still sat, furled but well-read, on the table before him amidst the lists.

"Firstly, this matter with the Carnutes" Caesar announced, his grey-shadowed eyes roving across the map on the table. "I am of a mind to send a single legion into their territory. Do you concur?"

Priscus nodded easily. News had reached Gesoriacum only the day before the fleet returned that the pro-Roman chieftain of the Carnutes - a man who had served well commanding auxiliaries and who had been supported in his bid for power among his tribe by Caesar - had been executed in the most appalling manner by his contemporaries. Though some flimsy excuse as to the cause had been bandied about, there was little doubt in either of the men at this table that it had been anything other than yet another piece being moved into place by the druids in their ongoing anti-Roman campaign.

"I think so, general. The chances are that the Carnutes are shifting away from allegiance with us, but there's no proof as yet. Sending in a legion for the winter will make a statement and should help keep things under control. It should hamper any efforts to raise the tribe further against us. Plus they can let us know the full situation and there will be other legions in northern Gaul and Belgae lands to move to their support if need be."

He cleared his throat. "In fact, general, given the likelihood that winter quarters will be quite widely dispersed this year, I think we would do well to make sure that every legion has another within at most a couple of days march for support."

"Agreed."

"Who are you thinking of sending to the Carnutes, general?"

"Plancus."

"
Plancus
?" Priscus tried not to spit the name. He was in the general's tent after all.

"Yes. Lucius Munatius Plancus."

"Are you sure that's wise, Caesar. He's not the most practical of men."

The general gave a cock-eyed hollow smile. "Perhaps not. But given the state of my officer lists, I would point out that he is now one of my longest-serving legates and has had several years observing the state of the tribes in Gaul. He is perhaps not a stable battle officer but I believe in a more political role, he could prove his worth. However, the Fourteenth are not strong - not a veteran legion. I need to give him a battle-hardened legion against the possibility that things turn ugly. I think perhaps the Seventh. They've seen a lot of action, and their tribunes are unusually sharp and effective."

Priscus nodded slowly, unhappily. "If you say so, general. I worry about what Plancus will do to the Seventh. I hope you're right."

"I appreciate your candour, Priscus, but while your tongue wags so, try to remember to whom you are speaking."

"My apologies, general."

Caesar nodded and brushed the conversation aside. "To allay your fears, I will send a cavalry detachment with Plancus under the command of Varus. He will have all the support he needs. The next issue is the Belgae and the eastern reaches, towards the Rhenus and the Germanic peoples beyond. We have already had trouble with the Treveri this year. What is your opinion of them?"

"Easy, general. I would sooner trust a Syrian whore to be pox-free than any of that lot. We put your man back in control, but I wouldn't be at all surprised to find he's already been off'ed in the night and the tribe starting to rise. I'll bet there's a thousand Germans already in the Arduenna forest waiting for word to start eating Romans."

"Agreed. We need to concentrate the army in the northeast. There have been few noises from the tribes of Aquitania or Armorica and we have limited resources. So we make sure to cover all the areas of known trouble."

"If that's the plan, Caesar, then despite their past pledges to us, we should send a force to the Aedui lands. Dumnorix, before he died this summer, named his brother Divitiacus as a co-conspirator, and that puts the entire Aedui tribe into doubt. Also, given their size and power and that of the Arverni who are only a javelin-throw to the west from there, we'd be remiss to ignore them."

Caesar shifted his wax tablets and peered at his map, spread across the table.