‘See this? I have worn this since the day I came to Hispania. The goddess you see is Nemesis – the lady of righteous vengeance. Fronto wears its twin – we bought them from the same stall on the same day . He knows the value of an oath as well as I but he, like you, broke his, and so now he has to pay for what he did. And you have to pay for your lack of strength and wit. ’
Monturos stared in horror as Verginius removed the figurine hanging from a thong on his neck, then held it close for the warrior to see. His eyes almost crossed as he tried to focus on the goddess hanging before him, and then he screamed again as Verginius plunged the figurine into his eye, ripped it out covered in jelly and blood, then slammed it into the other orb. Rising slowly, Verginius used his foot to nudge the dying, oozing, screaming warrior far from the fire and into the scrub, where he rolled, shrieking, down a slope and out of sight. He then returned to the fire, staring at his hands in distaste.
‘Do you know that in all the years gone by, the one thing I really miss about my old life is the baths. Who’s got a flask of water? ’
Chapter Eleven
‘TELL me,’ Galronus said quietly, leaning across in his saddle toward Fronto. The legate – former legate once more, he supposed – glanced around at the others. Aurelius had taken it upon himself to act as scout, riding slightly ahead, and Fronto could see him waiting patiently for them at the next rise. Masgava, Biorix and Arcadios were plodding along some distance behind with the spare horses and the baggage, arguing about something menial . They were as alone as they were going to get at the moment .
Sooner or later, given what he was leading his friends into, he would have to tell everyone everything, but some things were so per sonal and so long-buried that it was difficult enough to speak of them to Galronus, who they directly affected, let alone any of the others.
‘What have I told you before? Of Verginius.’
The Remi nobleman shrugged. ‘ Bits and pieces. Tell me it all. I need to know, in case I have to face him myself.’
Fronto nodded. With Galronus all-but betrothed to Faleria, he deserved to know their shared history. ‘Gnaeus Verginius Tricostus Caelimontanus, he was – is – in full. His family are one of the oldest in Rome, and some of the most noble patrician blood, too. Back over a dozen or more years ago, not long after Caesar and I had first returned from Hispania , my father, who spent much of his life in the bottom of an amphora, betrothed Faleria to Gnaeus’ brother Aulus. Aulus was a haughty, priggish, supercilious fathead. In fact, in truth most of his family were. But my father thought their status would enhance our own. The Falerii are barely patrician, you see. We’re a weird mix of Roman noble blood and Samnite from Puteoli, the Roman being an offshoot of the extremely proud Valerii lineage.’ He noticed Galronus’ eyes starting to glaze. ‘Anyway, the fact is that father thought he could raise our family profile through connection to the Verginii. Problem was, Faleria hated Aulus. So did I, really. But at the betrothal, we met his brother Gnaeus and we immediately liked him, all of us. He was different to the rest of his family. More like me, in many ways. Anyway, over two years, mother managed to persuade father in one of his more wine-sodden nights that Gnaeus would make a better match, and he agreed. With a little apology and some shuffling round, Faleria was betrothed to Gnaeus, and all was good. For a year we lived like princes in Rome, me and Gnaeus, with Faleria never far from us.’
Fronto’s gaze played around the snow-capped peaks surrounding them and he pulled his cloak tighter against the mountain winds. ‘ That year Caesar was in trouble. His creditors had called in his debts and he hadn’t enough money to pay them. He managed to secure himself the post of Pontifex Maximus, but he needed cash badly. He knew the Verginii and approached them, but Gnaeus’ father would have nothing to do with him. He thought Caesar a brash young nothing. Gnaeus had such an argument with his father, as he liked Caesar, but the old man was adamant. My own f ather was dying that spring, though, and he was gone by summer. I officially had control of the family finances and I helped Caesar pay his way out o f trouble. From that moment I think , Gnaeus, Caesar and myself were bound together. When Caesar went back to Hispania, Gnaeus and I went with him.’
Fronto fell silent for a moment. His shivers were only partially born from the cold winds of the mountain pass. Much more of it had to do with speaking aloud things he had always kept so tightly locked away. Things that hurt.
‘ Verginius and I led an army via Tarraco and up into the foothills of these mountains, then across Hispania Citerior and into tribal lands. Caesar was bolstering his waning funds with spoils from the Hispanic tribes. Don’t forget he still owed a lot of money, just to other people now, including me. It was the oddest situation, really. I wasn’t his client or his patron in any way. I was younger than him and junior, serving under him, yet in truth he owed much of his success and position to me. Anyway, once the campaign was over, Caesar’s army prepared to head back south to Italica loaded down with loot. But before we left we got a message from the governor in Tarraco asking for the Seventh to be returned . There had been trouble with the Ilergetes in the north of Roman lands, but Governor Caepio couldn’ t deal with it because he’d sent the Seventh with us to help Caesar , and so he was undermanned. Caesar refused to send the Seventh back. He was worried about his spoils, you see. Taking a caravan of s ilver, loot and slaves through hundreds of miles of tribal and then bandit-infested territory was dangerous work, so he decided to keep the Seventh along with the Ninth and all his other forces to protect his money. But to mollify Governor Caepio, he sent a cohort with a few turma of cavalry to put down the Ilergetes. That, of course, was myself and Verginius. We rode east with five hundred men in all. Verginius fell out with the general over it all . He considered Caesar to be thoroughly un-Roman for that – putting his own wealth above the good of the state. He spat at Caesar’s name all the way to Ilergetes land . To be honest, I was still a little hero-struck with Caesar in those days, and I overlooked a lot of his faults for the glory that surrounded him, but in retrospect, Verginius was right in every way. We should have refused to go, or insisted on taking the Seventh entire.’
He sighed. Aurelius was waving them on from the saddle ahead, confirming that the way was clear.
‘ We rode in as all young commanders who are full of themselves do, as though we were gods walking the earth. I seriously don’t think we considered it possible for Rome to lose. We’d never seen it, you see. We’d been victorious in everything we did. But we learned a hard lesson at the hands of the Ilergetes . They weren’t the walkover we expected. They fought us hard. They kept hitting us swiftly and running away, drawing off our cavalry , then butchering them in the hills. By the time we were deep in their territory and starting to think we’d made a mistake, there were less than four hundred of us and we were all tired. Verginius and I had joint command and when the scouts reported a small force of natives in a village not far ahead I decided to attempt the classic pincer movement as Hannibal had at Cannae. We split the remaining men and moved off to the sides of the road, sweeping round wide to come at them from two sides. It was entirely my tactic. Verginius argued against it, worried about splitting such a small force, but I was arrogant and sure of myself. We fell on the small force of Ilergetes like wolves, and only at the last moment did we realise our mistake.’
‘It was a trap,’ Galronus said.
‘It was. Four hundred Romans fell on fifty natives, and then suddenly found themselves surrounded by more than a thousand more Ilergetes. It was dreadful. Some of the worst carnage I have ever seen on the battlefield. I saw Verginius occasionally, but we were all fighting for our lives, so I couldn’t help him. I was wounded twice, but one of the centurions who had a better grasp of military matters than me decided to take command out of my hands and called for a withdrawal. Just over a hundred men made it out of the fight and drew into a defensive square.’
This was where it hurt most. This was what he’d never told. What had led to him almost following his f
ather down the same dark path of the Amphora.
‘I was one of the last to pull back. I was ashamed beyond words to have led my men into such deep shit. And I was determined then to save as many as I could. There were nine of us pulling back as the Ilergetes regrouped ready to charge. We slowly made our way across the field of bodies, helping up those who could still walk, aiding them back to the Roman square. We managed to get four more men out. Four . And half way back across that field with the Ilergetes pumping their arms in the air and howling at us as they prepared for another attack, I found Verginius. He was dead. I simply couldn’t believe it. And to my shame, the thing upmost in my mind was how I would tell Faleria about it. And t his is what I cannot understand: Verginius was dead. Quite dead. I checked him myself. There was a sword still standing out of his ribs, right through into the ground below. His eyes were unblinking and when I put my hand down I couldn’t find a pulse or feel breath.’
Fronto realised with no surprise that there were tears trickling down his cheek.
‘ I picked him up. I tried to , anyway. I was wounded and exhausted, and I couldn’t carry him. I ended up half dragging him, but then the Ilergetes started their charge and the others ran for safety. There I was dragging a dead man across a battlefield while hundreds of angry tribesmen ran at me. I nearly stayed. If I had, I would probably have died there. But I heard someone back in the Roman square shout my name and I panicked. I dropped Verginius back to the ground and ran. I left him. He was dead. Really: dead. I got back to the Roman square just before the enemy and they bundled me into the middle. The enemy fell on us and we fought for our lives in that defensive formation. We were almost wiped out, but the formation worked. We did so much damage to the Ilergetes that they finally broke off and left, preserving what was left of their numbers. Less than forty of us made it to Tarraco.’
Fronto heaved in a breath.
‘He was dead. That’s all there was to it. It was eight months before I went back. The Seventh had been returned to Hispania Citerior once Caesar was safely back in his capital, and they marched into Ilergetes land and brought them to heel. I went and found the battlefield afterwards. The Romans had been left unburied. The natives had taken away their own dead and looted the Roman corpses, but t he carrion beasts had been at work and the men of the Seventh I’d led there were just bones. You couldn’t tell boy from man or officer from recruit. Their armour had all been taken away, as well as their weapons and the rest, as loot. I never identified which body was Verginius. But I had seen him dead on that field and I, with half a dozen volunteers who’d survived the same fight , buried all the bones and put up an altar on the site. Then I got drunk for a few months. I think I’ve told you the rest.’
Galronus stretched. ‘So somehow Verginius survived, even without a pulse or breath. Is he a ghost, you think? Some sort of shade?’
Fronto frowned. ‘ I’ve been beset by shades before, Galronus. They haunt my dreams. They don’t raise rebellions in the mountains. No, this is a real man. Verginius is alive somehow. And for the love of Juno, don’t suggest anything like ghosts around Aurelius. The man’s half-mad with superstition as it is. The fact is that Verginius survived somehow. And he still harbours a grudge against Caesar for sending us to battle with too few men to survive. What does he want with me? It has to be revenge. For leading him into the battle against his advice, perhaps? For leaving him on that field and running for my life? Whatever it is, he wants revenge on me, but not, apparently, to just kill me. He had that chance in R ectum. But he’s drawing me back to Tarraco, and there I daresay I’ll find out.’
‘And what will you do with him?’
Fronto pursed his lips, staring off at the mountains ahead. ‘I just don’t know. Is he still Verginius, or has he gone mad? Is he now just this smiling king. Is there anything left of my old friend? To be honest, until I stand face to face with him, I won’t know what needs to be done.’
* * *
‘What, might I ask, possessed you to come this way again ?’
Fronto turned to Masgava, trying to ignore the fine white snow whipping into his face, stinging the skin and making him blink repeatedly. Like the rest of them, the big Numidian was wrapped in whatever furs and cloaks and blankets they had dragged from the pack animals. The sky was a perfect azure blue, as befitted the end of s pring as it slid into summer, but for all the blue sky and sunshine, it might as well have been midwinter in the pass, for the winds were strong, multi directional and incessant, and they carried stinging snow with every icy blast.
‘Because that’s our best bet.’
‘The locals said there were two much e asier crossings,’ the big, dark- skinned man grumbled argumentatively.
‘They also said that a small band of Arenosio warriors went this way, therefore so do we.’
‘Stupid. We could go round the easy way and maybe catch up with them.’
‘And what,’ Fronto countered, ‘if they are still in the pass and we miss them altogether? No. Wherever I can find confirmation Verginius has passed, we will follow.’
‘And what if he’s leading us into a trap? An ambush?’
‘Then be ready to draw a sword. You can always go back.’
Fronto glanced past the big man in the whipping snow. The view was breath-taking, in a somewhat nerve-wracking way. The valley lay well below and behind them now, shadowed and deep, the grassy central area almost invisible. The world up here was white and grey and freezing. Part way back down, Fronto could see the small black lake nestled in a ring of jagged white stone. They had refilled the water flasks from the icy pool, but had not lingered. The day was less than halfway through and they were all determined to reach the other side of the peaks before dark.
‘Another lake,’ shouted Aurelius up ahead, and Fronto could see him pointing into the flurry. They were all on foot now, leading their horses for safety . Another two or three miles at most, Fronto reckoned, and they would begin the descent to the valley. What had prompted Verginius to take such a high route, he could not guess, unless it were just to put Fronto and his men through the mill. After all, Verginius would be used to this territory now, while it was all new horror for the Roman party.
Slowly, huffing and puffing and feeling the burn in his muscles, Fronto hurried to catch up with Aurelius. The other four behind picked up the pace as best they could, leading the pack animals. A few moments later, Fronto struggled up the rocky incline to the crest and stopped next to Aurelius, his jaw dropping.
The view was something from a dream, something Fronto couldn’ t imagine placing in the real world. It was a place one could picture the gods walking, where Vulcan hammered his anvil and Minerva’s owl flew. If there was anywhere in the world Nemesis lived, this had to be it. In the heart of the mountains, a valley opened up, surrounded by fangs of grey rock. Here the snow had not settled so much, sheltered from the wind by the encircling rocks. And in the centre was the bluest lake Fronto had ever seen. Jupiter chose that auspicious moment to restrain the winds, and the flurries stopped , leaving them standing in a perfect calm world that battered the senses with sheer beauty. Half a dozen birds were visible, wheeling in the air against the grey majestic rocky backdrop. Ahead, at the far end of this almost hidden valley, the last stretch of the pass climbed before de scending to the deep valley that would take them to Hispania, but they would now have a stunning mile to walk along the edge of that amazing lake. Fronto felt his spirits lift with the sight and he smiled for the first time in days.
‘Maybe this Verginius does know how to pick a route, eh?’ Aurelius said, whistling through his teeth. ‘We could camp in this valley you know? Make the last climb tomorrow?’
‘No,’ Fronto shook his head. ‘We push on as long as daylight allows. I don’t want to allow Verginius too much of a lead. Whatever he plans, I don’t want to give him the opportunity to carry it out.’
The others reached the saddle a moment later and Fronto smiled at the sound of collective breaths being drawn. Then, sudd
enly, there was a dreadful wail, and Fronto’s head snapped round, his hand to the pommel of his sword.
At the back of the group, Arcadios was swearing and struggling. While Biorix and Galronus had most of the pack horses up on the flat now, the one the Greek archer had been leading had somehow slipped on the rocky, scree-strewn path and was skittering on t he edge, its weight already pulling it out over a horrible drop. Arcadios had hold of its reins as well as those of his own horse, and was the only thing keeping the poor beast up. But Arcadios was just a man, and was crying out in pain as his shoulders separated, the weight of a horse pulling at him.
‘For gods’ sake, let go!’ Fronto yelled, running back toward him, but the advice was unnecessary , for the small-framed Greek could no longer hold it without his arm ripping from its socket. Shrieking in agony, Arcadios let go of the rope and the unfortunate horse disappeared over the edge, crying out in terror and shock. Fronto heard the sickening thuds and cries as the poor beast bounced off the rocks and finally landed somewhere with a crunch. He was running so fast that he almost followed the horse over the edge and he barely stopped in time by Arcadios. Somewhere down below in the shadowed area, he could almost make out a darker shape.
‘What was it carrying?’ Masgava asked quietly as he joined them.
‘ The gold,’ Arcadios grunted.
‘All of it?’
‘Most of it. And my bow. Other stuff too. Some of the food. Part of the tent. ’
‘Things we can’t leave,’ Fronto said, voicing everyone’s thoughts. ‘ Even if we could leave the rest, we’ll need the money to survive longer than a day or two down in the flatlands once the supplies have run out.’
Marius' Mules IX: Pax Gallica Page 31