been a bureaucratic nightmare.”
“Who has been given command of this rotten legion, then?” asked Galronus quietly.
“Who else? Cicero. With his ties to the knobs in Rome who’re speaking out against the general, he was an obvious choice.”
“I thought Cicero was bound for the Eighth since Balbus left?”
“Young Brutus has managed to secure the Eighth. Spent half the winter badgering the general by letter, I gather, and started in person as soon as Caesar arrived. They seem quite happy with him. The Seventh is a bit restive, mind.”
“Not surprised. They’ll have plenty of chances to prove their loyalty, I suspect. I’m guessing that two new centurions by the name of Furius and Fabius are now in the Seventh? Anything else? What about the Tenth?”
Priscus shrugged. “Tenth are as good as they’re ever going to be without me sticking a vine staff up their arse on morning parade. Carbo’s a good man. I’ve got him terrorising the worst layabouts. And yes, there’s two new veteran centurions with the Seventh, as well as a few optios and legionaries. You met them then?”
“The pair travelled with us a way. I’d trust them about as far as I could reasonably spit a donkey. Pompeians through and through.”
Priscus nodded. “Pompeians they may be, but those two centurions have a hell of an impressive record. Might be just what the Seventh need if they’re going to prove themselves.”
“Anything else?”
“Nothing you won’t hear when the Gauls arrive to speak to the general — I expect he’ll tell you about that. Anyway, I am busy, so you’d best go present yourselves before Caesar starts to get angry. I’ll be along shortly.”
Fronto glanced at Galronus as Priscus turned back to his bureaucracy, acutely aware that they’d just been summarily dismissed by a theoretically inferior officer. The two men shrugged and, ignored by the camp prefect, strode out of the office and turned to make for the large command tent nearby, guarded by six of Ingenuus’ cavalrymen.
The men to either side of the door straightened and crossed their spears again as the two men approached and Fronto drew in a deep breath to announce himself just as the familiar, tight and strained voice of the general issued from the tent.
“Fronto? Get in here.”
Galronus smiled at him as the two guardsmen straightened and removed the impediment, allowing them to enter the slightly dim, spacious interior. The general was clearly in his element. Always invigorated by the commencement of a military campaign, and animated in his planning of such, Caesar moved energetically to the desk, his eyes bright, and leaned his back against it, crossing his arms. His hair seemed to have receded a little further over the winter, but otherwise he appeared as young and vital as ever he had.
“I was starting to think about sending out scouts to try and find you, Marcus.” His sole concession to Galronus’ presence was a respectful nod in his direction.
“We came with good speed, Caesar, barring a two day layover at Massilia to visit Balbus.”
“And how is Quintus? Well, I hope? In truth I had hoped to pay him a visit myself on my journey north, though events beyond my control required me to reach the army with all speed.” His face took on a sly smile. “But then, I suspect you had a more pressing need to speak to him than I. How is the lovely Lucilia?”
Fronto felt the colour rise to his face and once more damned his own blood for it.
“She’s good Caesar. Look, I’m sorry about this, but there’s some bad news we have to deliver before anything else happens.”
Caesar nodded. “Best get on with it then.”
Fronto looked at Galronus, who shrugged uncertainly. Turning back to the general, he clenched his fists by his side.
“It’s about your nephew, Caesar.”
“Young Pinarius? I’d assumed he’d come with you. Don’t tell me the half-wit’s got himself waylaid.”
“I’m sorry, Caesar, but it’s worse than that. I’m afraid he’s dead.”
“Dead?” The general never even flinched. His eyebrow arched slightly, but the only other sign that the news was of import was a slight whitening of the knuckles as he gripped his own elbows. “How?”
“He was found in a tavern cellar in Vienna, general. He had been stabbed deliberately. I saw the body myself. I’d put good money on the murder weapon being a standard issue pugio, the blow delivered by a professional hand, and I have some theories as to the reason. Galronus and I have been mulling it over as we travelled. There’s these two centurions…”
“It’s damned inconvenient.”
Fronto blinked. “Caesar?”
The general unfolded his arms and tapped his chin with two fingers thoughtfully.
“Very inconvenient. Oh, not for you, of course. I’m sure you’ll be happier without a senior tribune for the Tenth. And Priscus will be happy not to have to deal with him. But I’ll have to write to his mother and his wife. Young Domitia will be beside herself. Pinarius may have been a waste of good skin and bone, but she loved him for some reason, and he gave her a son. Inconvenient.”
“
“Indeed. Oh Fronto, stop looking so offended. You’ve barely met the man. I doubt he’d have lasted very long out here anyway. Julia pushed me into giving him a term in command, and my sister usually gets what she wants in the end. Now perhaps I’ll get no more family members foisted on me.”
Fronto felt the old familiar anger rising and it was with some difficulty that he forced his abhorrence at the general’s off-hand, casual dismissal of the matter down into his deep, seething soul, where it could fester until the next time he had cause to explode at the Republic’s favourite son. It would only be a matter of time, after all.
“Do you wish an investigation into the matter?” he asked tightly.
“If you want to, be my guest, Marcus, but don’t let it interfere with more important matters. Great things are afoot. The Germanic tribes are moving and threatening our hard-won peace. I’m interested to see what the Gallic noblemen have to say to me before we consider repeating our chastisement of Ariovistus, however.”
Fronto’s hard gaze remained on the general. “What is the current situation then, Caesar? Are we to move out shortly? I’ve not seen signs of decamping.”
The general shook his head and folded his arms again.
“The Gallic tribes near the Rhenus have a large force of Germanic tribesmen encamped in their lands. Mostly they are bulk infantry of the type we have encountered before, though apparently, these tribes…” he closed his eyes in a moment of recall “the Ubii, the Usipetes and the Tencteri — also have a form of cavalry. I am led to believe that they do not use their horse the same as us, but dismount for the fight. I enquired of my sources as to how effective that could possibly be, but I am given to understand that they are fearsome indeed.”
Fronto nodded. “So what are the local Gauls doing about them?”
“Mostly cowering in their huts” Caesar said, surprisingly without a sneer. “These trans-Rhenal tribes have a dangerous reputation, Marcus. They have been preying on the more peaceful tribes for centuries. I understand that their people divide into two groups and alternate annually between breeding horses and feed animals, and raiding and fighting. Essentially, their tribes have not seen a peaceful season in a hundred generations.”
Galronus, next to Fronto, nodded.
“The Tencteri I am particularly familiar with, general. They are bred for war. They live for war and pillage. They have learned these ways from the Suevi, a tribe that lives in the wastes beyond, to the east, and whom you should pray to your Gods that you never meet. I have heard tales in Rome that the Germanic tribes are all six feet tall or more, with the bodies of Vulcan, flame red hair, and are weaned on the blood of their enemies. Not so for many tribes, but the Suevi are the source of those tales. Among the Belgae they are the ghouls of childhood tales.”
Caesar nodded thoughtfully. “Fortunate for us, then, that we face only these other three tribes. What do you think of them, master Galronus?”
“The Tencteri are dangerous and warlike, and the Usipetes almost the same. The Ubii are more civilized. They have traded with the Belgae for many decades, and have often shown restraint. However, if they have crossed the Rhenus, it is because the Suevi forced them, and that will mean they are desperate. And desperate men are unpredictable and dangerous.”
