‘When did we return, Cicero?’
The legate stood silent.
‘When did we return?’ repeated the general, quietly, patiently.
‘On the kalends, sir.’
‘Would men have starved by then?’
‘Well, no, but…’
‘So you understand my disappointment.’
Again, Cicero’s ire rose and he opened his mouth angrily.
‘But, apart from that,’ the general said calmly, ‘it seems to me that during the siege, you and the Fourteenth comported yourselves appropriately and efficiently. I understand that the only poor decision made in battle was made by your Primus Pilus and he seems to have paid the price for his failures. I also understand that your success was in no small part assured by Baculus, from the Twelfth and among the wounded, as well as the eagle-bearer of the legion?’
Cicero nodded, defeated. ‘Aquilifer Nasica will be receiving commendations, and Baculus is sore wounded, Caesar, but the medicus says he will live, so long as we can strap him to a bed and stop him interfering with things.’
Caesar smiled at a few personal memories of the veteran centurion. He had fought alongside Baculus in the press of men when the Belgae had first resisted Roman presence, and the man’s indomitable spirit had impressed himself on the general even then.
‘We appear to understand one another, Cicero. I am certain you will not disappoint me again.’
‘You wish me to retain my command?’ Cicero blinked in surprise.
‘Five seasons of excellent and strategically sound command deserve to be recognised regardless of any moment of short-sightedness. Of course I wish you to retain your command, Cicero.’
He leaned back and glanced at the room’s other two occupants and in that gaze, Priscus realised that Caesar had reached another decision.
‘In fact,’ the general went on, turning back to Cicero, ‘I want you to give the Fourteenth a little action. Ambiorix still evades us despite the devastation we have wrought. Until the season changes and the snows set in, I want all ten legions based here, continually ravaging and destroying until the renegade king is brought to justice. I will remain as commander of the camp garrison. You can take turns with the other legates campaigning around the Belgae lands until you have fulfiled my vow for me.’
Cicero smiled. An opportunity to redeem himself loomed. ‘What of Tullus?’ he asked.
‘Tullus?’
‘His command was the Rhenus. To stop the tribes crossing. Had he obeyed your commands, I would not have faced my problems.’
Caesar frowned in deep thought, but shook his head. ‘Tullus used his initiative in interpreting my orders and I cannot condemn the man for that - in fact, he obeyed their spirit above their letter. I had extended an offer of plunder to our allied tribes. Tullus would have been at fault had be prevented an ally from joining the hunt. He cannot be held accountable for the Sugambri’s betrayal. But rest assured I will give him the opportunity to explain to them how disappointed I am at their actions.’
Cicero nodded, again wearily. ‘Is there anything else, sir.’
‘I do not believe so. See to your command. You will want to make some promotions and arrange some transfers I have no doubt. See to it and be at the general briefing tomorrow.’
Cicero turned with a salute and left the room. Caesar looked across to the other two.
‘Thoughts?’
‘You are too soft on the man,’ grumbled Antonius, slugging back his wine.
‘You’ve decided to stay, then?’ Priscus asked. ‘Despite Rome?’
‘To return to Rome having failed to uphold my promises would be a dreadful thing and would play into the hands of my political enemies,’ Caesar sighed. ‘It seems I am left with little choice.’
The three fell silent for a long moment - a silence broken by a commotion outside the building. Caesar frowned at the others and Priscus stood, stretching. ‘I’ll have a look.’ Leaving Antonius and Caesar arguing over Cicero, Priscus stepped out through the door.
‘Better to have Clodius do away with Cicero’s brother in an alley and then send the incompetent fool home,’ grumbled Antonius.
‘A plan with a few merits,’ Caesar smiled, ‘but a number of drawbacks. No. Cicero is better tamed and sweetened than turned into a martyr by my enemies. We could…’
He paused as the door opened again unannounced, and Priscus returned with a wide grin.
‘Prepare yourself, General. Fronto’s back. And he’s brought you a gift.’
* * * * *
Fronto strode into the general’s office with Palmatus and Masgava at his shoulders, the remaining six men of his party remaining outside, crowded at the doorway with Ingenuus’ guard. He was aware, as he passed the immaculately turned out cavalry troopers, that he and his men bore a closer resemblance to common countryside bandits than Roman soldiers, and probably smelled more like goatherds after so long in the same clothes with only a fully-dressed dip in chilly rivers to serve as a bath. Certainly Caesar reached up and rubbed his nose as they settled in, Masgava closing the door behind them.
‘A gift from the Goddess Arduenna, Caesar, who seems to favour Romans over fugitives.’
With no ceremony, he dropped something bulky and heavy in a dark-brown-stained oiled skin bag on the floor before him. The rounded object hit the boards with a bony clunk and rolled a short way. Caesar fixed the bag with his piercing gaze and then frowned as the other two men dropped a similar bag each.
‘Need I ask what that contains?’ Caesar prompted, pointing at the bag Fronto had dropped.
‘It is exactly what you think, Caesar.’
A nod. ‘And the others?’
‘What we believe to be the usurper king of the Segni and their chief druid - the pair who were planning to tear their tribe away from you and join Ambiorix. Traitors both. Without them, the Segni are still ours.’
Caesar nodded and a weary smile crept across his face. Fronto turned to his friends. ‘Take the rest of the lads and get yourselves bathed, dressed properly, and then fed until even Masgava’s fit to burst.’ The pair grinned and saluted Fronto and Caesar, then turned and left the room, shutting the door behind them and leaving the two senior officers in the relative gloom.
‘You were a long time away, Fronto. Despite everything, I found I worried for you. Especially when we began to campaign around you. Priscus never missed an opportunity to remind me of your proximity and your peril.’
Fronto chuckled and sank unbidden into a seat. ‘The forest of Arduenna is a big place to search, as it seems you have learned yourself, sir.’
‘And finally, in the end, you have given me the means by which to fulfil my vow.’
Fronto nodded, his eyes darkening. ‘There is more, though, Caesar.’
‘Oh?’
‘My unit was infiltrated by an anti-Roman Remi warrior, who it seems killed half a dozen of my men during the journey and only revealed himself when he was forced to murder Ambiorix to prevent the man spilling his guts to me.’
‘You got nothing from him?’
‘Almost. Despite the betrayal - which, I must warn you came from the bosom of one of our staunchest allies due to the current policy of devastation against the Belgae - I managed to coax a name from him: Vercingetorix.’
‘Never heard of the man. Who is he?’
‘That remains a subject for investigation, but I am fairly certain that it is the real name of the revolutionary we have been hearing of called Esus. Also that he is a nobleman of the Arverni tribe who I actually spoke to in Bibracte back in spring. He is friend to the druids and from what I saw a man to be reckoned with.’
Caesar sighed. ‘I thought for a moment you had brought me the solution to my quandary, but it seems instead that you have simply altered the parameters.’ He saw Fronto frown and explained. ‘I have been debating whether it was more important to return to Rome and deal with the problems arising there or to continue in my hunt for Ambiorix. You have solved the latter for me, b
ut only by raising another problem in Gaul that will demand our attention, possibly more so than Ambiorix.’
Fronto took a deep breath. ‘I’ve been thinking about this Vercingetorix, Caesar, and I have a few thoughts on the matter for you, but what news from Rome? What demands your attention?’
Caesar’s fingers steepled and he leaned forward. ‘It seems that the three most powerful men in Rome are now two.’
‘Crassus fell to the Parthians.’
‘You say that as though you knew?’
‘Let’s say the Gods gave me a little preview and leave it at that. I’ve been half expecting the news all year.’
‘His son fell in the battle, also. Consequently, the younger Crassus is returning to Rome. The position of legate of the Tenth Legion seems to have opened up somewhat fortuitously for you. Almost as though that damned random Goddess you so favour had a hand in it.’
Fronto nodded, but pursed his lips. ‘Caesar, you cannot tell the world you have taken Ambiorix.’
The general paused as he sat back, his eyebrows dancing curiously. ‘Pray, why not?’
‘It’s one of the main conclusions I’ve drawn, General. The trouble to which the druids and these rebels went to in order to prevent any information falling into our hands is somewhat telling about its value. We have a name. With that name we can learn more, but only as long as they are unaware of the fact that we know of Vercingetorix. As soon as you release the fact that you have Ambiorix’s head, the enemy will assume we know things. Their secrets will be closer held… their treachery tighter controlled. This Vercingetorix will, of necessity, go into hiding until the time for action comes. We have an advantage, but only as long as the enemy believe Ambiorix is still free. Vercingetorix must be the pin at the hub of years of Gallic unrest.’
‘No matter how true what you say may be, Fronto, I made a vow to Venus Genetrix and to the senate and people of Rome. I have spent the best part of a season hunting the man and I cannot stand in public and admit failure, holding up empty hands. Especially when I have the man’s head at my feet.’
‘Venus already knows of the vow’s fulfilment, and the Goddess is the only one you need fear, General. You know as well as I that the senate and the people are pliable. You have fulfiled the important vow and kept the Gods content. Feed the public a distraction.’
‘You suggest I lie somehow to the people of Rome?’
‘I suggest that you shift your focus. Take the Roman thirst for vengeance and slake it on another. We’ve the heads of two more conspirators here,’ he added, nudging one of the bags with his toe.
Caesar frowned and tapped his chin. ‘It’s a dangerous gamble, failing to deliver a wolf and instead trying to hand them a rat.’
‘The public are fickle. Have Hirtius release your campaign records again this year, but play down the part of Ambiorix in them. Focus on your destruction of the Belgae and on the smaller rebels whose heads we can deliver without spooking the main players in the game. You’ve always been a master of leading the public in their desires rather than simply satisfying them.’
‘I cannot give them the king of the Segni as a grand traitor. His proximity to Ambiorix puts him in danger of spooking them almost as much as the renegade king - and the senate will know the Segni are a small, almost insignificant tribe. Sadly, Labienus has disposed of Indutiomarus.’ He paused. ‘Perhaps the culprit behind the earlier potential rising of the Carnutes and the Senones? Antonius and Priscus went and brought them back beneath our heel, but the man responsible was never punished.’
‘Then he could be your man,’ Fronto noted, ‘but be careful how you handle that one. The Belgae are disenamoured with Rome after the events of this year and we don’t wish to do the same with western Gaul. Don’t push those tribes too far in order to produce a scapegoat.
Caesar nodded. ‘Unfortunately, none of this solves my dilemma, regardless. I am somewhat inclined, given the events of the past two years to stay in Gaul over winter and bring this Vercingetorix to heel. Priscus, at least, will be pleased. The man’s been urging me to deal with his Gallic revolutionaries for many months. Perhaps Rome can wait.’
A series of real and imagined images flashed through Fronto’s head in the blink of an eye: Catullus, fatalistic and sad, relating the prophecy he had been given and then lying twisted and vomit stained on the floor of his villa; Julia, lying lifeless next to her stillborn child, swathed in the blood of the birth bed; Aurelia Cotta rendering down to fat in her burning house; Crassus pinned to the sand with a hundred Parthian arrows; Rome’s silver eagle falling in a collapsing building, the banners of crimson on fire. An end to the Republic? Fronto hated temples and prophecies more than he cared to admit, and yet it was difficult to deny the evidence of this one playing out, and the conclusion was a horrifying prospect. He shuddered and dragged his mind’s eye back from the images.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Fronto shook his head. ‘Despite everything, I feel that to be unwise, General.’ He leaned back and stretched. ‘Rome will be unstable following the loss of Crassus. They will be looking for strength and, if you are occupied in darkest Gaul, they will find it in Pompey. No matter how many your clients in Rome, without a sense of your presence, they will not sway the crowd. Crassus was off in a foreign land. You must not be, unless you wish to hand the city to your enemy. The Republic hasn’t been in this delicate a state since Sulla and Marius were hitting each other with rocks. The eagle mustn’t fall.’
Caesar frowned at that last and the peculiarly intense expression on Fronto’s face, and let out an exasperated breath.
‘Then it seems that I am plagued with having to place one side of my dilemma or the other in the hands of my subordinates. And forgetting all of these issues, there is also much that requires my attention back in Aquileia with the governing of Cisalpine Gaul.’ He rubbed his temples against the threat of a headache. ‘I think perhaps Aquileia is the place to go.’
Fronto was nodding. ‘Close enough to either Gaul or Rome if you are needed. Makes sense, I suppose. Not showing your face in Rome might be dangerous, though.’ A collapsing building; burning vexilla; a falling eagle.
‘I can visit Rome during the winter,’ Caesar sighed, ‘but my presence in the city full time would bring matters with Pompey to a head at a stage at which I am ill prepared to deal with him. In Aquileia I am close enough for the people, but not too close for Pompey. Clodius will still act as eyes and ears in the city for me. And I have others, in the senate. Young Crassus will play my pieces for me, too. Until I can observe what is happening in Rome after Crassus’ demise, I cannot push any more than that without further endangering matters. The big question, then, remains what to do with Gaul.’
‘Winter the troops as usual, and place Vercingetorix’s fate in the hands of Priscus,’ Fronto suggested. ‘He’s been the one at the forefront of the matter for years anyway, and we both know he’s the man to trust with the task.’
Caesar nodded. ‘If I winter the troops in a line beneath the Belgae, right across the land, we should be able to react to anything. And in pairs, given what happened last winter.’
Fronto nodded. ‘And if you’re going to deal with the Carnutes you’ll be north of the Aedui and the Arverni. Concentrate the legions to the west and they will be on hand for anything.’
Caesar nodded and leaned back in his chair. ‘There are matters here that sit uncomfortably with me - principally the failing to make public Ambiorix’s death and the need to keep my wits focused on two fronts of battle. But I agree with your interpretation of the situation.’
The general let out a tired sigh. ‘I have missed your counsel these past years, Marcus. It has not escaped my notice that in your absence things seem to have addled, slowed and complicated. I fear Fortuna is as much yours as you are hers, and she departs with you when you leave.’
Fronto shrugged. ‘I owe her a great deal. Is it your wish, then, that I take up command of the Tenth when Crassus leaves?’
Caesar nodded s
lowly. ‘I shall have the orders drawn up. I believe I will reconvene the Gaulish assembly at Durocortorum once more before the season ends. The lands of the Remi are the most secure for us in the north, and we will move the legions there and utilise our allies among the tribes to bring the leader of that earlier conspiracy to justice. From there I can disperse the legions to winter quarters easily, and we are close enough to the Carnutes and the Senones to deal with any issues arising.’
‘I presume Crassus will be heading for Rome as soon as he can?’
‘Yes. He already prepares for the journey and will not come as far as Durocortorum with us. And neither, I fear, will you.’
‘Caesar?’
‘I am informed that your young wife is with child - by now probably heavily with child. I imagine she would be pleased to have her husband present for the child’s first days in the world? Women are very sentimental, and events of the past year have somewhat brought home to me the value of family. The rest of our sojourn here will be largely political and ambassadorial, dealing with the chiefs’ assembly again and, without wishing to sound too harsh, you are not the world’s most natural ambassador, Marcus. The army can cope without you until you return in the spring. You have a few very good officers who will command the legion in your absence. And I would suggest you travel home with Crassus. Given the current state of Gaul, the combined protection of your guards will be sufficient to see off all but the greatest of threats.’
Fronto sat in immobile silence for a long moment, guilt coursing through him. In all the adrenaline and danger and fury of the past week and more, he’d rarely given more than a passing thought to Lucilia, and he had all-but forgotten about the pregnancy, but now that Caesar had brought the subject to mind, he suddenly found himself desperate to see her.
She would want him there.
‘Thank you, General. And when your business with the assembly is done, I’m sure Lucilia would be disappointed to hear that you had travelled past Massilia without gracing us with a visit?’
Caesar’s eye twinkled in a manner that Fronto hadn’t seen in years and he realised just how much tension had been dispelled in the last cathartic few months, culminating in this very conversation.
Marius' Mules VI: Caesar's Vow Page 48