Gallia Invicta

“This subject is not open for discussion, Marcus. Leave it be.”

Fronto gave a vicious grin.

“Well we were headed for an argument about the attack, so let’s just have an argument about this instead.”

He ignored the warning glance again.

“Whatever it is, we’re in wet, boring, north west Gaul, a long way from the jackals in the senate that are always sniffing around you for a weakness. Out here it’s just you and your army. You need to be straight with me, ‘cause it worries me. I’ve not seen you…”

The legate paused and frowned thoughtfully.

“But that’s not true, is it? I have seen you like that before.”

The general still hadn’t spoken and Fronto nodded as his thoughts stretched back.

“Vesontio last year… before we moved against the Belgae. You virtually pushed me away and disappeared on your own, complaining about the smell or something. That was the same thing, wasn’t it?”

“Fronto, you might sometimes be too bright for your own good. How can you have recall like that when you pickle your brain so often?”

Fronto brushed the comment aside, frowning.

“It’s a preservative. Come on… you’ve got to trust me. I know something’s up and you’d be better off giving me the truth than letting me speculate.”

Caesar sighed and sagged again.

“I do have an affliction that strikes from time to time. It’s not lethal; just inconvenient and I would rather like to keep it from the rest of the men. You and I know that it’s men, not strange forces, that control the future of the world, but there are a lot of intelligent men out there who cling to ridiculous superstitions, let alone the average soldier.”

Fronto nodded.

“They could see it as some sort of curse?”

“Exactly. A mark of divine disfavour or some such.

“How many people know about this?”

Caesar shrugged.

“My body slave, some select few of my family… and a merchant in the forum holitorium who will die a very wealthy man so long as he keeps his mouth shut.”

The general smiled.

“But since you now know, I may need your help from time to time in keeping this quiet.”

“Does it happen often?”

Caesar frowned.

“Rarely more than a couple of times a year, really.”

Fronto sighed and leaned against the leather of the tent wall.

“So what is it? Give me the details and I’ll know what to do the next time that happens, rather than making feeble excuses to the men and leaving you on your own in the tent to ride it through.”

The general nodded quietly.

“I’m not entirely sure, Marcus. It only started a couple of years ago, about the time we first left for Gaul. I’ve discounted the possibility of a connection; men like you and I look at plain fact, rather than superstition, as I said.”

Fronto pursed his lips.

“And you’ve not seen a doctor?”

Caesar smiled.

“In fact I have seen several, Marcus. One of the main reasons for my wintering in Illyricum this year was to be safely away from Rome for a while, somewhere where I could investigate this without my enemies getting wind. Illyricum is home to a number of doctors who follow the Greek medical traditions; very smart men. Unfortunately, just like their democracies, the medical profession are plagued by differing opinions and the inability to reach a unified conclusion.”

“And?” Fronto prompted.

“The most common theory is that I have what they call the ‘falling sickness’. That’s the worst case, I suspect, since the stigma it carries means that revealing it could be political suicide. But even if that is the case, it needn’t be a real problem. I’ve heard it said, after all, that Alexander of Macedon had the same problem, and he built a vast empire.”

“And died very young if I remember rightly” Fronto added flatly.

“Something from which, I fear, I am quite safe.”

Fronto sighed.

“There are other possibilities?”

Caesar nodded. “I will not speculate, Marcus. Whatever it is, it appears to be periodically debilitating rather than life threatening. But if you see me starting to get hazy and confused, or if I appear to be hearing or seeing things that aren’t there, find an excuse and get me somewhere private urgently.”

“Then what?” Fronto asked with genuine concern.

“I may lose consciousness. I may shake and spasm for a while. The symptoms, I understand, are quite varied and interesting…” the general smiled “…though I am never in the right frame of mind at the time to record what it is that’s happening. It might be very useful the next time it happens if you could note the progression, so that I can approach the doctors with the details the next time I return to Salona.”

Fronto nodded seriously.

“Somehow it doesn’t surprise me that you share traits with Alexander. Alright, general. I’ll keep this quiet and my eyes open. In the meantime, we need to deal with the current situation. I realise that I overstepped my bounds by allowing the Tenth to call the retreat but, as I’m sure you’re aware, I’ve always considered it more important to do what you needed done than what you wanted done.”

Caesar shook his head slowly.

“You were, of course, quite correct, and I would normally recognise that myself. You’ve known me since my earlier commands, Fronto. You know I’m not the sort of man to throw troops away on foolish errands.”

Fronto nodded. “That’s what took everyone by surprise, sir. Is it the illness?”

Caesar shook his head sadly.

“Nothing to blame this on but lack of adequate thought. The past few months have been extremely draining and aggravating, Marcus. Those in Rome who have influence are beginning to array themselves against me; the senate and even the people, who have ever been my greatest advocates, are beginning to question my actions, since Gaul will not accept the eagle; the elder Crassus seems to be genuinely affectionate towards me while his son undermines everything I do here; Pompey keeps placing minor obstacles in my way and even Cicero is starting to speak out against me. Everything feels like it is pressing on me and I’m on the verge of snapping under it all.”

Fronto smiled sympathetically. He could understand the weight of politics. It was a contributory factor to his own avoidance of it.

“You need the campaign over as fast as possible. We all know that, general, but cutting corners will only cause you trouble in the end. Let the legions do their jobs properly and we’ll have this over in no time.”

“I hope you’re right, Marcus. I really do. Alright, then; let’s have the update.”

Fronto stepped away from the tent wall and stood before the table.

“Alright. Well I’ve sorted things outside. We lost maybe four hundred men, but it could have been a lot worse. I’m allowing tents to be set up, but nothing else. No fortifications or suchlike. We don’t want to get involved in a protracted siege, as you said, but the men need to keep dry when they’re off duty or the whole army’s going to come down with something.”

“You still expect to be able to resolve this quickly, then?”

Fronto shrugged.

“A lot of that depends on factors outside our control, Caesar, but we hope so. Tetricus has the artillery of