Conspiracy of Eagles

the hardship of winter quarters, I suspect.” The man smiled a knowing smile and Fronto couldn’t help but chuckle. He could only imagine what was in the wagon bound for Plancus’ tent.

“Everything, sir” the soldier said as if reading his thoughts. “Right down to a marble statue of a dancing satyr and some naked girls. Pride of place, that one.”

Fronto laughed again. “Do me a favour and try and damage some of it in your travels.”

“More than my life’s worth, sir. I’d get my arse kicked right back to Ostia, and with nailed boots, too.”

This time even the recently-dour Galronus smiled. “Good luck on the roads north” the Belgic officer said, stretching. “The Rhodanus valley’s safe enough, but the passage across the lands from Bibracte to Nemetocenna will be difficult if the weather turns, and it will do so any day now.”

The soldier nodded gratefully. “Thanks, sir. We’re pretty well organised with goods and escort, so we should be fine. There’s nothing happening on the trail upriver then, sir?”

“No” Fronto frowned. “Why?”

“Well there’s not been many come back down from the campaign yet, sir, and the ones as passed through yesterday seemed concerned and in a bit of a hurry. Wouldn’t even exchange words with me.”

Fronto looked up sharply. “Two tribunes by any chance?”

“Aye, sir. Proper posh they were, sir. Wouldn’t talk to anyone but Fimbria over there.”

Galronus had turned to the man now.

“They were here yesterday?”

“Yes sir. They came in after sunset in a real hurry. Arranged passage on a fast courier ship. I expect they sailed with her this morning, sir.”

Fronto and Galronus exchanged a look.

“Thanks.” Fronto pushed a couple of denarii over the table to the soldier. “Have a few drinks on us.”

The legionary grinned. “Cheers, sir” he muttered, touching his forehead in salute and scurrying off to the bar to cash in his new coins for wine.

“So,” Fronto leaned across the table into an almost conspiratorial huddle, “if we needed any confirmation, there it is. Menenius and Hortius are only a day ahead of us and bound for Rome. Mark my words, Galronus, I’m going to find them and deal with them.”

The Remi officer leaned across the table towards him. “And I will help you when the time is right, but do not let your thirst for revenge cloud your judgement. The tribunes must pay for what they did to Tetricus and the others, but our first concern has to be Faleria and Clodius.”

Fronto nodded as that cold weight settled in his stomach again. He’d done everything possible on their long journey to keep his mind off the peril his sister was in and Galronus had pointedly avoided the subject, though whether to protect Fronto or for his own comfort was unclear. Suddenly it now felt as though a taboo had been lifted; a taboo that had covered them for eleven days.

“You realise there’s every possibility that she’s not… that she…”

“She is alive” Galronus said flatly. “Do not allow yourself to think otherwise. Whether Clodius is working on Caesar’s orders or not, the man would not dare touch Faleria.”

“He dragged her off the street and imprisoned her.”

“But without harm as far as we know. Caesar would not harm her; you know that, and so Clodius would not dare. I, however, will harm him when I find him.”

Fronto nodded emphatically.

“We need to work out a plan of action; before we get to Rome.”

“Go to Clodius’ house. Kill everyone in the way” Galronus suggested without a hint of humour.

“Impossible and you know it. We would be slaughtered. Clodius has a small army at his command and a well defended house. The man is paranoid and for good reason. And if we did somehow get inside, he could simply kill her and dispose of the body before we got close.”

“Then how can we deal with him?”

“The same way he deals with everyone else” Fronto sighed. “With fear. The only thing that will make Clodius defer and offer terms is when he knows he’s outclassed, outmanoeuvred and there’s no other option. He has a small army; we have to have a larger one.”

“You want to hire an army? In Rome? With the legal restrictions on openly bearing arms?”

“Screw the restrictions” Fronto snapped. “We’re dealing with a cold criminal and we have to do whatever is required. Balbus has a force already assembled and he’s just waiting on my word to go for the man’s throat.”

“He will not have enough.”

“No. But it’s a start. When we get to Rome, you make your way to Balbus’ house and let him know what’s happening. Get him to ready his men for a fight. I’ll go to my townhouse. It’s still being repaired, but mother has a small fortune hidden in three different places under the floor. I know where they are, so I’ll go collect the funds and then hire us as many gladiators, thugs and retired veterans as I can find — everyone in the city who knows what end of a sword to hold. Then I’ll send them all to Balbus’ place and follow on. As soon as we have a big enough force we’ll go down to see Clodius and demand the release of Faleria or start to demolish his house with him still in it.”

Galronus nodded. Criminals and bullies were the same in every culture. It only took someone with a bigger stick to force them to back down.

“You will have to describe the directions to Balbus’ house.”

“I’ve never been there myself, but I know where it is. He’s described it before. Alright, from the circus maximus, you need to skirt the Palatine hill…”

The harbour of Ostia slid implacably towards them and never had Fronto been more desperate to set foot on land. The seasickness had taken a backseat during the journey, the worry over his sister’s captivity continuing to gnaw at him, and worsening with every league they sailed.

“When Faleria and I are married,” Galronus said suddenly, in an attempt to smash through the oppressive cloud that covered them both, “I would like you to be the auspex.”

Fronto blinked, his gloomy, negative reverie shattered by the sudden, bizarre request.

“What?” he said almost incredulously, turning from the rail and its view of the approaching dock.

“When Faleria and I…”

“I didn’t mishear you then? You’re really set on this?” For some reason, the campaign season had almost driven his friend’s decision from Fronto’s mind, and now it seemed peculiar to think on it, especially given his sister’s predicament. And yet, he had to admit that, upon receiving the news of her captivity, he hadn’t turned to his old friend Priscus, but had immediately reached for Galronus. Not because the ties that bound them were any stronger than with Priscus, but because at a gut level, Fronto knew how much Faleria meant to the Remi noble.”

“Of course.”

“And you’re that sure she’s interested in you?”

“She is.”

Fronto felt a smile crack through his tense shell. “You’re certainly not lacking in confidence, my friend. How do you know about the auspex? How do you know about Roman marriage at all?”

“I’ve made some enquiries over the summer. It sounds as though your ceremonies are not too dissimilar to ours, though they seem to involve a lot more unnecessary complications and a longer period of betrothal.”

Fronto leaned against the rail and folded his arms. “Do I really strike you as the right man to read the auspices from the guts of a pig? Even my bandy-legged fishwife Goddess seems to have abandoned me.”

“You know as well as I, Marcus, that no one is expected to actually divine anything. It’s a show. I may have trouble rounding up many of the witnesses, though. Faleria may have to choose all ten.”

Fronto shook his head and smiled. “Witnesses are the least of your worries.”

“Then you will do it?”

“If you can get Faleria to agree to take you on, I’ll do it, yes.”

“Good. And now to more immediate matters: look over there.”

Fronto frowned and followed his friend’s pointing finger. Across the harbour, a sleek, low ship was making for a dock at the far side of the port.

“It’s a liburna, privately owned. Nice looking thing. My best friend’s uncle had one when I was a kid; used it