Balbus frowned. “Do you not think that Marcus should have a…” he caught the helpless panic on his friend’s face and nodded instead. “Very well, let’s take all the trouble out of his hands. I’m sure Corvinia and Lucilia will want to involve themselves, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Erm…?” began Fronto, looking slightly wild-eyed.
“Don’t worry about it, Marcus. We’ll sort it all out” Balbus smiled. “Trust your old friend. I’ll see you right, even in the face of all this womanhood!”
Fronto nodded unhappily.
“So” smiled Balbus ”I think that we should settle for a relaxing night of catching up for now. I’ll send word to the trireme’s captain to remain in port for a couple of days. Once you’re safely packed off to the north, I will take the ladies and the girls back to Rome for the summer to organise everything. I was planning on a trip anyway, and besides, after last year’s events, I suspect it would be good if someone were to keep an eye on our interests in the city?”
Fronto nodded.
“Shall we send someone to let Lucilia know she can come back? And it’s time I saw Corvinia and Balbina. And tried some of Corvinia’s pastries again.
Faleria rose slowly. “I shall go and find the ladies and bring them here. I may be a few minutes. The evening is warm and the honeysuckle on your veranda smells delightful. I could do with a few minutes of air before we close ourselves in and gorge.”
Fronto frowned at her as though she must have some ulterior motive.
“Don’t wander too far” he said irritably.
Galronus smiled and stretched. “If it is permitted, I shall accompany you. The night air reminds me of my lands and my people. Sometimes it is nice to remember I am Belgae and born to this sky.”
Fronto moved his frown to his friend. “I notice your Gaulish nature gets neatly sealed away when there’s a racing circuit and a bookmaker anywhere in the vicinity!”
Galronus smiled infuriatingly and walked out of the room, leaving just Fronto and Balbus alone. Almost as if they’d requested it, Galronus closed the door with a click as he left.
Balbus leaned forwards conspiratorially and Fronto frowned.
“What?”
“Have you had a visitor, Marcus?”
The frown deepened. “What are you talking about?”
“Vatia?”
“Eh?”
“Publius Servilius Vatia?”
Still no change in the frown. Balbus took a deep preparatory breath.
“How do you not know Vatia? His father’s the censor who wiped the pirates out at Isauria? The lad’s serving as quaestor for Narbonensis and he paid me a visit a couple of months ago. He expressed an interest in you and I wondered if he’d pursued it?”
Fronto pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re circling an important point and trying not to make it, Quintus.”
Balbus had the grace to look a little uncomfortable.
“Servilius is making a few enquiries on behalf of his father… enquiries of those who are known to have disputed Caesar’s command or are clear of ties to him.”
“Quintus…” Fronto said quietly. “You’re talking about something very dangerous there. What’s his interest in it?”
“He never said; just sort of… sounded me out. But I thought long and hard about it, and I seem to remember that his father served as admiral of the Euxine fleet under Pompey in the east, so it’s not hard to put the pieces together.”
Fronto shook his head. “If he
Balbus shrugged. “As far as I’m aware this is still a republic and not a kingdom. Dangerous it may be, but I do have the right to at least listen to every side in a debate. It’s what a good Roman does.”
Fronto’s eyes flared. “Quintus, don’t tell me things I really don’t want to hear!”
“Relax, Marcus. I’m still a client of Caesar’s and a friend of yours. But don’t tell me you’ve never even contemplated whether you’re doing the right thing hoisting Caesar’s banner, because I know you have. I know that you’re too bright not to question the general.”
“Quintus” Fronto hissed, “that’s quite enough. You’ve always been Caesar’s man!”
“And I still am… for now. But look at it: Gaul is pacified. He’s pushed his remit beyond breaking point and stretched Rome to the very edge, but he’s managed it. Gaul is tamed and everything can settle again. Now, he should be back in Illyricum or Cisalpine Gaul, making laws and skimming money off the taxes like a good governor. He doesn’t need eight legions to hold on to a peaceful Gaul. He should be settling veterans. And what is he doing?”
Fronto shook his head, vehemently.
“What is he doing, Marcus?” demanded Balbus quietly.
“Preparing for campaign.”
“Against who? For what?”
“Germania. He says they’re threatening the Belgae.”
Balbus nodded.
“Good. Then he will push back the Germanic tribes across their river, settle the veterans there to make sure it doesn’t happen again, and then he’ll return to his gubernatorial duties, I presume.”
“Quintus, I don’t like what you’re suggesting.”
“Only because you know I’m right, Marcus. Watch what happens. What I just suggested is all that’s required, and you know that. But if the general settles veterans and returns to political life after he’s saved the Belgae, I’ll eat my own cuirass.”
Fronto opened his mouth to argue again, but the door opened suddenly and Corvinia entered with a warm smile, followed by a grinning Balbina and a veritable army of slaves bearing steaming platters.
Corvinia greeted him warmly and Fronto cast one last warning glance at Balbus before, pushing his fears and dismay deep down into his chest, he stood and put on a smile that he hoped would look genuine.
Two days at Massilia had passed in strained pleasantry. Despite their longstanding friendship, the conversation Fronto and Balbus had shared alone that first night had soured the visit and nothing seemed able to dislodge the dark cloud from Fronto’s thoughts.
The betrothal arrangements had been made around him and despite of him, largely by Corvinia, Lucilia and Faleria, while Fronto nodded and smiled and made his best attempt at small-talk: a thing he’d never truly got the hang of. Lucilia had noticed that something was different, as had Faleria, despite his smiles, though both had had the sense and tact not to enquire as to the cause.
The morning he had said goodbye to Lucilia, Faleria and the family had been an unexpected wrench for him, despite the fact that his feet had been itching to hit the trail north as soon as the mood had turned. He was never a man to avoid confrontation in the line of duty, but a confrontation with a good friend was a different proposal.
He and Galronus had checked over their horses as the slaves of the villa and the solider from the staging post in the agora fussed around their pack animals and the many bags. Fronto had flatly refused a baggage cart due to the interminably slow pace it would set, and had purchased two strong pack beasts for the journey.
With just a few muted last hugs and kisses, he’d mounted up, tipped a nod at Galronus, and the pair had been on the road while the sun was still young and cool.
The journey along the valley of the Rhodanus was peaceful and could have been pleasant, had Fronto been in a better mood. Galronus had watched him from time to time with something like concern but, fortunately, the big Gaul seemed to have something else on his mind and did not push the conversation at any point. The worst thing that had risen from his repeated replaying of that conversation in his head was the fact that he couldn’t shake off the feeling that Balbus might be right.
