Gallia Invicta

could stay out of the city for a while; let things die down?”

Fronto shook his head.

“You’re safer here. Out in the countryside accidents could happen even easier… fewer bystanders too. In the city you have lots of witnesses. Besides, Priscus needs to keep his eye on Clodius. That man has his finger in a lot of pies and sooner or later he’s going to burn it. Stay here, but keep close to Priscus and do whatever he says.”

Caelius nodded and stepped away from the moving crowd of chattering lawyers to stand with Fronto and his friends as Clodius and his sister emerged from the doorway, their faces grim. As the pair reached the top step, close to Fronto, the man stopped, his sister almost running into his back in surprise.

“Fronto? And your pack of dogs too. Where’s the lame one?”

Fronto grinned wolfishly.

“Somewhere close by. Where he can see every move you and your pals make. Had a bad day?”

Clodius shrugged.

“You win some and you lose some. In spite of what you think, this is not an overwhelmingly important matter to me. I have other, more significant things to think about.”

Fronto’s grin remained in place.

“I can imagine. A few houses to burn down? Some women and kids to knife? The odd kneecap to break? That sort of thing?”

Clodius’ expression flickered for a moment and settled into an ironic smile.

“Something like that, yes. On a grander scale, but yes. If you ever feel the need to abandon that declining has-been that can’t keep Gaul quiet, feel free to come and see me. I can always use a few good men.”

Fronto’s teeth clenched and he spoke through them in a low hiss.

“I shall continue to smile for the look of the thing, since we’re in public. If we ever meet in private, however, I might have to explain to you in great detail just how little I think of you. In the meantime, since I see no sign of your pet Egyptian catamite, I have to assume that he’s busy sharpening some knives, or treating some mushrooms, so I think we will take our leave and go celebrate somewhere where I can’t see your dog’s-arse ugly face.”

Turning his back on the rigidly-fixed smile of Clodius, Fronto grabbed Caelius and Galronus, strolling down the steps to join the small band of hired mercenaries below.

Clodius scratched his chin.

“That man interests me; fascinates me, really. He is part thug and part orator, part vagrant and part patrician, part hero and part villain. I was very seriously thinking of having both Fronto and Caelius killed tonight, but it may just be both more prudent and a great deal more fun to let him be and see how this develops.”

Clodia stared at her brother.

“You can’t just let this end here?”

He turned and regarded her with a sneer.

“I cannot? What has this got to do with me other than a rather imprudent attempt to help my sex-crazed and idiotic sister take her revenge on an ex lover?”

Clodia stared for a moment and then, bringing her arm back, delivered a slap that would have stung Clodius’ cheek had he not raised his own arm to block the blow. His teeth clenched, he grasped her wrist and pulled her around in front of him.

“You stupid bitch. I am up to my neck in plots and plans that have taken years to put in place, with some of the most powerful men in Rome playing roles, some unaware even that they are doing so. I am standing on the top of a rickety tower built of my own machinations, and I leave you to your own devices for a few months and you pull the base of the tower out from under me. I need public exposure and humiliation right now as much as I need a knife in the gut and what do you do? Launch mad accusations at a high-profile young politician with powerful friends. Congratulations on making us both figures of public derision!”

He let go of her wrist and pushed her back away from him.

“But you will deal with him? For me?” Clodia’s voice had almost become a whimper. Her brother turned his angry gaze on her.

“You will disappear from view. I don’t want to see your face until the next time I send for you and if I hear anything about your exploits from an outside source, I may well re-task Philopater with a new target. Do you understand?”

Clodia blinked.

“You’re just going to let him go?”

“You’ve lost, Clodia, and I will expend no further money or effort to try and salvage your tattered reputation. Now get out of my sight.”

Without a parting glance at her, Clodius turned and strode purposefully off down the steps. Behind him, Crispus straightened by the column beside which he lurked and waited for the broken and dejected figure of Clodia to shuffled off across the square. The basilica had emptied and the last of those involved had descended and disappeared in the forum. Crispus smiled to himself as he stepped out into the open and gazed off after the retreating figure of Clodius, now on the other side of the square.

“And you interest me, Clodius Pulcher. Just what plots and plans are you hatching?”

With a grin, he set off to catch up with the others. Priscus would certainly have something to do this summer other than babysitting, after all.

Chapter 5

(Aprilis: Approaching Vindinium in northwestern Gaul)

Fronto sighed as the mounted party crested the hill and the oppidum with its Legionary camps appeared, sprawled around the low hill beside the river.

It had not been a long journey by the standards of some he had taken, but had still been more than two weeks in all. The general and his staff and senior officers, accompanied by Aulus Ingenuus and the general’s praetorian guard had embarked on a small transport vessel at the navalia, the military port on the Campus Martius, and had taken a couple of hours to Ostia, where they had transferred to one of the triremes of the fleet for the two day journey to Massilia.

By the time the ship had put to sea, the miserable grey drizzle that had once more set in had grown to a full blown deluge. Fronto had looked nervously out at the crashing waves and asked tentatively whether the captain really thought the sea was safe enough, but the man had merely laughed at him and told him that they would put to port for storms, but not for a bit of rain.

Never the world’s best sailor, Fronto had lurched miserably from foot to foot as the Argus bounced from wave to wave, trying to ignore the smell of the cooked pork and bread dipped in spicy sauce that the others were tucking into for lunch.

The only thing that made the miserable two days bearable for Fronto was the fact that he managed to hold onto his stomach’s contents for the duration, while Galronus, who had never before stepped aboard a ship, had turned a worry grey-green colour in the first ten minutes and had made sounds like a dying goose for the whole journey.

Finally, blessedly, the ship put in at Massilia just as, to Fronto’s intense irritation, the clouds dispersed and gave way to an unseasonably bright and warm day. The officers had led their horses up from the Argus, along the dock and up the slope, to turn and watch the ship pull back out into a freshly calm and placid open sea for its return journey.

The sixteen officers and two dozen cavalry troopers, armed against the bands of thugs and robbers known to operate in the dirty streets of this great port, and followed by the dozen carts that contained their campaigning gear, had made their way slowly from the coast up the slope toward the area of exclusive villas owned by some of the more affluent, yet discerning, Roman nobles. Few men born in the great city itself would choose such a site for a country residence, but those who valued their privacy and solitude, while maintaining close access to a major