Gallia Invicta

grin widened.

“You’d be surprised how many veterans of my legions there are within the city’s bounds, Fronto, and most of them hold a loyalty that goes far beyond receiving their honesta mission. Some of them are your men, even.”

Fronto blinked again and turned to look over his shoulder. The advancing mob behind them had stopped. Lod stepped forward and crouched menacingly.

“Boo!” he barked, and some of the men at the front of the gang actually jumped.

Caesar stepped toward the tall, scarred spokesman.

“Disperse immediately or pay the penalty for public disorder. Your choice.”

The man stood silently for a moment, clearly weighing up his options, but the decision had been made for him. The men of his gang melted away at the periphery into the side streets and doorways and he stood at the centre of a rapidly shrinking force.

“Run, then, and don’t come back” the man said to Caesar defiantly.

The general grinned.

“Oh, we’re not all leaving. Some of us have business yet in Rome.”

The man dithered again, fumbling for another pithy retort but, realising there were now less than a dozen men between him and a century’s worth of veteran soldiers, he threw and angry glance at them, let out an exasperated grunt, and ran off into a side street.

Fronto shook his head.

“You do like to show off, don’t you? Did it not occur to you to let me in on it?”

“And spoil the surprise?” Caesar grinned. “Hardly.”

He looked up at the three women, each heaving sighs of relief.

“Well ladies, it would appear that the way ahead is clear. The veterans of my legions will join Cestus and escort you as far as Albanum and the mansio there. I hope the sea air agrees with you and that we will meet again very soon.”

The ladies of the house of the Falerii smiled gratefully at the general and, waving at Fronto, gestured to Posco to move on. As Priscus slipped down from his seat and wandered across to the officers, Lucilia leaned over the edge and planted a difficult and somewhat unexpected kiss on Fronto’s forehead.

“Hurry back, Marcus.”

Fronto stared at her as the vehicles trundled on, the legionaries falling into escort positions as he rubbed his head and looked at his fingers suspiciously.

Turning, he realised that Priscus and Caesar were both grinning at him.

“Oh, grow up!”

Chapter 24

(Late October: On the Janiculum, overlooking Rome.)

“I can’t see why they couldn’t have met in the city” Priscus grumbled, massaging his painful hip as he stumped slowly up the sloping gravel path.

“Neutral ground. They are the three most powerful men in Rome, so I suppose it’s symbolic.”

“Sym-bollocks is what it is!”

Fronto smiled at his friend. Behind them, Galronus stomped up the path, showing no sign of fatigue. Fronto glared at him and, turning, plodded wearily on. Ahead of them, Caesar walked quietly, as though out for a stroll to enjoy the late autumn air, Aulus Ingenuus striding along beside him, armed now they were well outside the city’s pomerium.

Ingenuus had tried desperately to persuade the general, in light of recent events, to allow the entire contingent of his cavalry guard that had returned from Gaul to escort him today, but the general had insisted on a small accompaniment only.

Ahead, a small group of men loitered at the hill’s crest, lounging on benches or leaning on the decorative balustrade. Fronto squinted and could make out the figure of the younger Crassus, clad in his dazzling white toga. Fronto mentally dismissed the showy garment; whitening it with chalk was a practice rarely carried out these days, and yet, he couldn’t help but nod with approval when he spotted the tip of a gladius sheath below the hem.

“Looks like Crassus and his men are already here.”

Behind them, Galronus hurried to catch up.

“I still do not understand the importance of this. We should be concentrating on Clodius, surely?”

Fronto smiled.

“In a way, we are. I had a lot of time to think last night, Gnaeus, and every time we’ve pushed Clodius, he’s pushed back harder, and each time it’s not us that gets the brunt of it, but my family. I sat chatting to Nemesis last night and came to the conclusion that I had a choice: vengeance against Clodius or looking after those I care about and that simply has to come first. The time to deal with Clodius will come, but when there is no chance of the backlash destroying the Falerii. Anyway, these three men can, between them, make almost anything happen in Rome; or stop it happening. The chaos in the city is only rife because these three are not working together and therefore letting it happen.”

He became aware of Caesar watching him with a frown.

“Not specifically because of you” he added wearily. “But it needs sorting out.”

As the general turned back to face their destination, Fronto glanced ahead and then back over his shoulder. The temple of Janus on the hill’s crest had been chosen carefully as the venue for a number of reasons: it was neutral territory for the three men; it was sacred ground, and no true Roman would commit an act of violence within; it offered an unrivalled view to aid privacy and safety; last of all, the two faced Janus was the master of beginnings, changes and choices and the symbolism of the God’s shrine would not be lost on any man present.

Behind them, the gravelled path led down the Janiculum hill in a wide arc to the Pons Aemilius that would take them back to the city when this was over. Fronto noted with interest part way back down the path, among the rapidly thinning foliage, Pompey striding up the slope with a certain speed as though he were late, half a dozen men rushing along around him, some carrying goods.

“How long do you expect the meeting to take?” Fronto asked.

“I really have no idea, Marcus. If all goes well and my peers share my vision of the coming year, we could have everything settled within the hour. Rarely, however, do we all see quite eye to eye without some levelling of the ground.”

Fronto grumbled something under his breath.

“What was that?”

“I said we should have brought lunch with us.”

Caesar laughed and sighed, stretching, as he reached the top of the path and stepped out onto the paved walkway surrounding the small temple. Nodding at the younger Crassus, he gestured to the temple’s open doorway. Crassus nodded.

“Father is in there, alone. He is waiting for you, general.”

“Thank you.”

With sighs of relief, Fronto and Priscus clambered up the last step and onto the walkway, the latter immediately slumping onto the low, stone balustrade and kneading his leg.

“I am getting bloody sick of hills. Why couldn’t Romulus and Remus have gone west instead of north? Rome could have been built somewhere flat with a beach!”

Ingenuus strode off toward Crassus and the two fell into quiet conversation as Fronto and Galronus leaned on the railing next to Priscus.

“Nice day” the Gaul noted, looking at the hazy mauve sky through the sparse trees.

“Make the most of it. It’ll be about the last good day of the year, if I’m any judge.”

Priscus looked up, grinning.

“Nice to see you’re as optimistic as ever.”