Gallia Invicta

Fronto shrugged.

“By all means, but we should go to the triclinium, there’s a guest in the main room sleeping off the effects of last night. Galronus is around somewhere; possibly in the garden face down. Shall I fetch him?”

Caesar shook his head.

“Not so important. It’s you and Priscus I’m here to see.”

Shivering in the cold, damp air, he turned to follow Fronto into the dining room. The general stopped to nod at Priscus with a measure of respect and familiarity. The Camp-Prefect-in-waiting gave a small bow in return and then followed the group in, limping with a rhythmic grunt.

Once the party were all seated, Caesar stretched and locked Fronto with a searching gaze.

“I’ve only been back in the city for a few hours and already I hear the most astounding rumours about your activities, Fronto. My niece is very well informed. I look forward to hearing all about it, but first let me give you a ‘heads up’ as they say.”

Fronto nodded. All business; something had unsettled the general.

“A message reached me a few weeks ago at Salona, courtesy of Brutus’ mother Sempronia here in the city. It would appear that young Crassus, busy wintering away in northwestern Gaul, is about to cause a Gallic uprising; or possibly he has already done so.”

Fronto groaned.

“I was really beginning to hope we’d settled things in Gaul. Every year we go there, have to sort some arrogant bastard out and then you announce that Gaul is conquered again… until the next rebel pops up.”

Caesar nodded grimly.

“It is very much as you say and, I have to admit, it’s starting to make me look bad in the eyes of the senate. I cannot keep pronouncing Gaul conquered and then having to go back and sort the damn place out again forever. But it’s a little… delicate. I have a great deal tied up in my alliance with his father; as much as I do with Pompey, if not more. I cannot simply remove the runt and send him running back to daddy. So, sadly, we’re going to have to go and make sure this revolt either doesn’t happen at all, or fails to become noteworthy back home.”

Fronto sighed and reached across to Priscus, motioning for him to pass the bread and cheese. As he did so, Fronto shrugged.

“I’ve sort of been expecting the call to arms, anyway. It’s a few weeks earlier than I expected, but still…”

Caesar shook his head and then reached out speculatively for the loaf of bread that Fronto had finished with and was about to discard.

“May I? Don’t panic over the call, though, as I’m not planning to head out for a few weeks yet. There are things I need to do in Rome: I have to see Crassus and Pompey, and spend a little time with Atia and her family. I have to renew a few acquaintances, and pass on my gratitude to Sempronia. It was she who knew to send the message from her son on to Illyricum. Besides, half the staff officers and legates will need to be informed and gathered. I believe Crispus is here somewhere?”

Priscus nodded.

“He’s returned to staying at his family’s house on the Esquiline, general. I think he’s sick of waking up with a bad head.”

Fronto hurriedly chewed through his mouthful, speaking with a mouth packed with bread and cheese and dropping crumbs onto the floor.

“If Crassus is causing that much shit, shouldn’t we get back as fast as possible?”

Caesar shook his head.

“Gaul may be important, but it’s only one of my worries at the moment. Besides, young Brutus seems to be keeping things in order, with the help of some of the veterans. He’s even gone as far as building a fleet on the Loire to prepare to deal with the coastal tribes.”

Fronto nodded appreciatively.

“He does think ahead, that one. Clever lad.”

“So…” the general said, pulling himself up a little in his seat, “what’s this I hear about you getting involved with half the criminals and politicians of Rome?”

Fronto took another bite of cheese and shrugged.

“Your friend Clodius is messing with things. Him and his sister, anyway. They’ve taken Caelius to court and Cicero and Crassus are defending him. Well…” he added with a grin, “they’re defending him in court. Me and Priscus and a bunch of lads with stout wooden clubs are defending him everywhere else. It’s him that’s asleep on the couch in the other room.”

“Indeed” Caesar nodded. “I’d heard that he was involved. You do know, I presume, that Caelius Rufus is one of the names on a list I have of people that work for Clodius and cannot be trusted and will need to be dealt with in due course?”

Fronto chuckled mirthlessly.

“I think if he was still in Clodius’ pocket there would be considerably fewer knife-wielding maniacs out to gut him in the street. You might find that Caelius is one of the most useful people you could meet in the near future, so long as Cicero and Crassus can keep him away from execution.”

He looked up at Caesar from beneath lowered brows.

“So long as you do right by him and don’t send him the way you did with Paetus, that is.”

The general’s features hardened.

“Paetus was a fool and a tool; nothing more. Don’t start getting sentimental over people you feel sorry for Fronto. There are too many of them for comfort.”

Fronto glowered for a moment, but let the matter pass.

“You might want to speak to both Crassus and Cicero as soon as possible” he added. “I’m just playing bodyguard, but the pair of them know what’s happening in more detail. They seem quite positive that they can destroy Clodius’ case.”

“Fair enough” the general nodded. “The trial is set at the start of Aprilis, yes? I think we can delay our departure until after that. I would rather like to be around for the event. Where are your mother and sister, by the way? I was hoping to pay my respects while I was here.”

Fronto leaned back.

“Mother wanted to go shopping this morning and Faleria felt the pressing need to be a long way away from me. In her defence, I did smell like a dead bear this morning.” He sniffed his tunic and winced. “And the rain hasn’t helped much. Now I smell like a soggy dead bear.”

Two of the new officers exchanged quiet words in Greek.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to do that?” Fronto glared at them.

“I am dreadfully sorry, legatus. I was led to believe that you were not a man to stand on ceremony.”

Fronto glared.

“Not with people I know. You I wouldn’t know from Socrates!”

Priscus grinned uncomfortably through the tension that hung in the air.

“The legate is suffering with a bad head this morning and is quick to anger. I suggest you stick to good honest Latin for now. Fair?”

The toga-clad Illyrian nodded hastily.

“Good.” The former primus pilus of the Tenth turned to Caesar. “I expect I know the answer, general, but does the call up include me on the roster? It’s getting quite dangerous in Rome at the moment. I might just be safer in Gaul.”

Caesar smiled.

“I’ve already appointed a temporary camp prefect for the season to hold the position for you, Priscus. You rest for a few months more yet. I’m sure there will be plenty of action for you to come back to when you’re fully recuperated.”

Fronto smiled as he saw the Greek-speaking fellow with the attitude in the corner go white at the mention of Priscus’ name. He laughed.

“Let me guess? That fellow over there’s your temporary camp prefect?”

Caesar nodded, his face betraying no emotion.

“Ha. No wonder you went pale. Hey Priscus… meet the man who’s covering for you.”