Gallia Invicta

residence, evidence of Fronto’s father’s modest and frugal nature. The plain walls, almost entirely lacking in apertures, gave an austere impression.

Fronto strode ahead of his companions yet further and reached for the door, rapping hard on the wood.

There was a pause, while the others caught up with him, the wagon squeaking irritatingly as it rolled to a halt.

The door opened slowly to reveal not the disapproving features of the house’s chief slave, but those of four men Fronto had never seen before. Two had the distinct look of brigands, the third a massive man wearing the braids and beard of a Celt of some variety and the fourth a small, steel-eyed man bearing scars that clearly marked him as a professional fighter of some note.

“Who are you?” the latter asked plainly.

Fronto narrowed his eyes.

“I am the master of this house. Get out of my way.”

The other three moved forward, effectively blocking the entrance with a wall of muscle.

“Gnaeus?” the man’s voice called and, between the bodies, Fronto saw with relief the familiar face of Priscus duck around a corner. The former centurion blinked and stepped out into the hallway.

“Marcus? Thank all the Gods. It’s about time you showed up.”

He turned to the small, wiry warrior.

“Good job, Cestus, but this is the man I work for.”

The four men backed away from the door and fell to one side, nodding respectfully at Fronto. He was on the verge of an irritated outburst but Priscus, recognising the signs, reached out and drew the legate through the door by the elbow, gesturing to the men.

“This is Cestus. He’s my chief enforcer now. Used to be a gladiator… one of the few ex-gladiators in Rome not currently in the employ of Clodius, I might add. These others are Todius, Aranius and Lod; all good men. No bugger gets in here without being cleared by me or Faleria.”

Fronto stopped, an eyebrow raised.

“First name terms now, eh, Gnaeus?”

Priscus looked past Fronto’s shoulder and grinned.

“Galronus! Good to have you back.”

He paused.

“You have company too?”

“I’ll tell you all about it in good time, when…”

“Marcus?”

He looked up past Priscus to see Faleria, dressed in simple pale green and her hair down and damp, fresh from the baths. Somehow, despite the difficulty he always had with her, something eased inside him. She looked healthy.

“Faleria. How are you?”

She laughed a small surprised laugh and then hurried past the guards and threw her arms around her brother.

“It is far beyond time you were home, Marcus. Gnaeus does a perfect job, but mother has been counting down the days to the Armilustrium. She knew you’d be back before then.”

Fronto smiled with a curious sadness and then looked up at Priscus and gestured with his thumb. The former centurion nodded, limping forward, and gestured to Galronus.

“Come, my friend, I have quarters ready for guests. I presume you’ll be staying the winter?”

The Remi officer smiled and bowed respectfully to Faleria as he passed and joined Priscus, the two disappearing round the corner deep in conversation. Fronto turned to the guards.

“Get that wagon through the side gate and unloaded, then secure the front door and gates.”

Cestus jerked a nod and the four men disappeared out through the front door, respectfully sidling around the young lady in the doorway. Faleria noticed the other visitor for the first time and frowned a question at her brother, her arms still tight around his shoulders.

“This is Lucilia, the daughter of my good friend Balbus. I’ve spoken of him.”

“And of Lucilia, of course” she added with a smile, giving him a final squeeze and then releasing him as she moved on to her new guest.

“Are you here for a time, my dear?”

Fronto turned and shrugged.

“She’s here to weigh up a potential match to one of the Caecilii. Balbus asked if we would be good enough to look after her while she was here. Well, in actual fact, he asked if you’d be good enough.” There was an unspoken question of his own there.

“Of course she must stay here. With Priscus’ little army, there’s nowhere safer in the city these days.”

She smiled as she reached out for Lucilia’s arm.

“Have you been to Rome before?”

“This is my first opportunity to visit, my lady.”

Her hostess laughed.

“If you know my brother, then you’ll realise that I expect little in the way of formality in this house. Call me Faleria.”

“Thank you. And I, Lucilia.”

“Perhaps, if Marcus can spare Gnaeus and some of his men as an escort, I can show you some of the glorious sights of the city in the morning, though you must be exhausted from your journey.”

Lucilia gave Fronto a strange look and shook her head.

“Actually the trip was very uneventful and quiet. Almost silent, in fact.”

Faleria gave Fronto a questioning glance and he shook his head.

“If you two ladies can do without me for an hour or two, I think I ought to see Priscus and catch up on events.”

Faleria shook her head emphatically.

“Not until you have visited mother. She’s in the tablinum outside.”

Fronto paused for a moment and then, nodding, strode off through the doorway to the rear that led into the peristyle garden. Pausing briefly to note the strange juxtaposition of the carefully-groomed garden and the three wooden dummies at the far side, regularly used for sword practice in army fashion, he turned away and into the reception room doorway.

Faleria the elder reclined on a couch, reading a scribbled note on parchment; a copy of the acta diurna made from the tablets in the forum by the house’s chief slave, Posco, for such was the habit of Faleria.

As the light from the doorway dimmed, she looked up and blinked at the silhouetted figure of her son.

“Marcus?”

“Mother.”

Walking slowly in, he wandered across to the couch, where she reached out with her hands. He was shocked to see the trembling in them, but clenched his teeth and reached out to cup them in his own hands and squeeze them.

“I knew you would come home soon. Gnaeus kept telling us you were on your way.”

He smiled weakly.

“I wanted to come earlier, but…”

“I know. Young Gaius needed you too much. He is a drain on your energy, but it is good to attach yourself to a rising star.”

Fronto heaved a sigh and let go of her hands.

“I’m not following him into office, mother, even if he asks me. We’ve not spoken for half a year, so please let’s not launch straight into the old arguments.”

She gazed at him levelly, and he studied her face, dismayed at how much she seemed to have aged in such a short time. There was something about her gaze that…”

He looked down to hide his expression as he realised that one of her eyes was not moving as her gaze