Gallia Invicta

Fronto grinned.

“I’m going to start by breaking two of your fingers in return for mine. Then I’ll decide on the next move, while Priscus sources a hammer for me.”

The man’s eyes widened.

“You wouldn’t? You couldn’t? My master will kill you!”

“Which one?”

The man opened his mouth and started to babble desperate threats and promises, but Fronto reached to the hem of his tunic, snagged in his fall, and tore a strip from it, balling it up and shoving it forcefully into the man’s throat, gagging him.

Galronus frowned.

“Do you not wish to interrogate him?”

“Hardly worthwhile.”

Reaching down, he grasped the man’s middle finger and, with a jerk, snapped it to vertical. The man’s muffled scream brought a smile to the legate’s face.

“Ah, the beauty is truly not in the receiving, but rather in the giving of gifts.”

The man’s eyes widened again, tears rushing down his cheeks as Fronto grasped his fourth finger, ready to snap it.

“Wait!” Priscus grinned. “I may have a better idea.”

As Fronto let go of the finger, his head cocked to one side, Priscus drew his pugio dagger from the belt around his tunic. Gripping the same finger carefully, he positioned the blade. The man realised what he was doing and tried hard to struggle free, but Galronus’ grip was vice-like.

He screamed into the balled cloth as Priscus severed the finger with the two rings on. Holding it out to Fronto, the former centurion grinned.

“Evidence.”

The legate stared at the finger and slowly broke into a smile.

“I’d best go put this to good use. Could you two do me a favour and break any part of him that’s supposed to bend? Careful not to kill him though. I want to send him back to Clodius alive.”

Turning his back on the nods of his two companions, Fronto smiled down at the finger in his hand bearing the priceless seal rings of Clodius and Pompey. With a light laugh, he set off back up the hill toward the temple, ignoring the unpleasant noises behind him.

Caesar shook his head.

“We should be above this, gentlemen. We agreed on a course of action at the start of the year at Lucca that should have secured things for all of us in Rome and beyond and provided a solid foundation for our work in the coming year.”

“We did” Crassus agreed, nodding, “and I have seen no reason to change our plans. You keep Gaul and Illyricum, Pompey keeps Spain and I get Syria. Our various factors and clients manoeuvre things in Rome for us and everyone is happy. Why reconsider?”

Caesar shook his head.

“Things are not working out, though. Clodius continues to rabble rouse and interfere in Rome. There is violence and almost outright war on the streets. Cicero, Cato and others work to bring me down in the senate and, while that affects me directly rather than you, think on how it weakens our alliance. We are inter-dependant. We cannot allow weakness in any one of us, for fear it brings down the others.”

He sat back against the temple’s cold wall.

“No. It will simply not do to have the three of us absent from Rome for at least a year, with mere assistants attempting to keep things moving for us here. Rome needs to be gripped with a strong hand and guided, else the chaos and disruption I have seen in the streets in the past week will simply escalate until we are faced with disaster.”

Crassus was nodding slowly.

“I agree to an extent; things are getting out of control in the city. I will be leaving my son in the city in a position of some importance. In him I have the utmost trust, but I am not sure about any others.”

Caesar smiled.

“I have seen your son at work, my dear Crassus. He will not fail you, but we three are the men who have the strength and the will to push Rome in the right direction and you both know that. Withdraw our direct guiding hand and people like Clodius and Cato will gain the upper hand.”

Pompey, until now largely silent, sat forward.

“We only need one man in Rome. With the governorship of Spain, I have already maintained the province from here the past few years, and I can continue to do so. I may have to visit a few times, but there is nothing to stop me remaining in Rome.”

He smiled.

“Indeed, my theatre will be completed next year, and I would wish to be in the city for its inauguration and the first shows anyway. I could be the man of whom you speak, guiding Rome, while the pair of you deal with Syria and Gaul.”

Crassus nodded again.

“The plan has merit, Gaius. With Pompey in the city keeping control, I can settle in Syria and prepare to move into Parthia. You would be free to consolidate Gaul and consider your next move.”

He smiled sadly.

“I am aware that there is some disparaging talk about your conquest, but with a year to consolidate with no rebellions, you can be sure of the province before moving on.”

Caesar sighed.

“You would need more power than you currently have, Pompey, if you alone were to try and control the heaving hydra that is Rome.”

He pursed his lips.

“We considered the consulship at Lucca but put aside the idea as something that might provoke a negative reaction to our alliance. Since we already have that reaction now, let’s use the consulship. We can arrange to have the two of you voted into the consulship together. Between you you would effectively have control of the city.”

“What about you?”

Caesar smiled at Crassus.

“I will be far too busy to attend to the duties of a consul in the coming year. You, however, will have at least a year in Syria before you could even consider attacking Parthia. You can stay in contact with Pompey here and the two of you would be able to keep things under control. Is that not the answer?”

There were nods from the other two men.

“It’s workable” Pompey smiled.

“But” Caesar added, gesturing with a cautionary finger “this would be for the benefit of us all, and of Rome itself, and not for personal gain.”

He concentrated his gaze on Pompey.

“I would expect you, in my absence, to maintain my reputation and keep my enemies muffled in the senate as you would do for yourself. I hope we understand one another?”

Pompey nodded, his brow furrowing slightly. Crassus looked back and forth between the two men, an unspoken question in his expression.

“I…” Pompey began, but there was a knock at the door.

The three men exchanged surprised glances and Crassus, nearest to the entrance, rose from the seat.

“Come in?”

The great bronze portal swung open with a metallic creak and dazzling sunlight invaded the gloom of the temple. The figure silhouetted in the doorway slowly resolved itself into the shape of Fronto, his arms folded.

“Marcus? We were not to be disturbed. This is most discourteous.”