Paetus smiled to himself. He appeared to be centre stage in this little production entirely by chance. The two men fell silent, but Paetus, his ears sharp, listened to their footsteps as they strode away along the path. The former prefect gave one last glance down from the rail, to the road by the circus, where Fronto and his companions were busy gnawing their way through a hearty breakfast as they strode along.
Allowing enough time for the men to have moved off, Paetus turned to look at the back of the two men who were now making their way down the Scalae Caci toward the Circus. The figure on the left was familiar enough to him: Philopater, the gaunt Egyptian with the hook nose who ‘arranged’ things for Clodius. Paetus had met him a number of times, not always in the best of circumstances. The other man he didn’t know, but he had the bearing of a veteran soldier and, contrary to the law, the shape of a pugio scabbard bulged at the belt beneath his tunic. A killer then, either professional, or at least a well-trained amateur.
As they reached the grand façade of the temple of Cybele, Philopater nodded to his companion and then veered off to the right, past the temple and back toward the forum. The second man continued on down the slope toward the Circus and Paetus was briefly torn between the need to follow the Egyptian and find out what else he was up to, or to see how events played out down below.
The first race was still over an hour away and the illustrious family names of Marcus Falerius Fronto and Marcus Caelius Rufus would guarantee them a good spot, even if they arrived late. The small group were making for a tavern at the foot of the path, where it met the main road that led down to the Aemilian bridge across the Tiber. The figure ahead picked up speed. The streets down there were crowded enough that a clever man could inflict damage and escape unnoticed; especially when they had a distraction…
Paetus looked behind Fronto’s group and spotted the dozen thugs moving through the crowd behind them, carrying heavy lengths of wood. Fronto, as always, was out ahead with his friends, letting the hired help bumble along behind, largely unprotected.
‘No help this time, Fronto. When Clodius’ thugs leap on your own, you’ll fall foul of a well-placed blade.’
Though he was bright enough not to voice his thoughts aloud, Paetus found himself hurrying. He would have to do something. Not only was Fronto just about the only man that had proved to be sympathetic to Paetus’ plight, he was also apparently involved in a plan to cause Clodius trouble. The situation was good for Paetus, so long as this killer didn’t get his knife in Fronto or Caelius.
Paetus frowned as he descended. Everything he did these days was prepared far in advance, but now he found himself in a corner with no time to plan; just to choose a path and take it. To help Fronto could possibly lead to him being noticed, but to not do so was to likely condemn the man to an assassin’s knife.
The killer was already reaching the stretch where the path levelled out, Paetus still several dozen steps behind him. He watched in anger as the man reached up under his tunic and drew the knife ready to act. The thugs had all but caught up with the back end of the small group. No time left. Decide!
Paetus clenched his teeth and shook his head. He couldn’t attack the man; it would be too ridiculously obvious. Reaching down to the side of the path, he picked up a weighty stone. Was his throw good enough? He used to be good, certainly, but that was a long time ago.
A scream below announced that the action had begun. The group of thugs sent by Clodius had jumped on Fronto’s men and had taken the first two down with the initial blow. Already they had erupted into a confused tussle. The hairy Gaul behind the noblemen turned instantly and leapt into the fray among the hired help. Paetus clearly heard Fronto’s shout, tuned to it as he was from years of campaigning with the man.
“Priscus and Crispus? Get Caelius away to safety!”
Paetus faltered for a moment. Fronto was turning back to join the Gaul in attacking the thugs. Priscus and the legate of the Eleventh grasped Caelius and propelled him from the action, to somewhere presumed safe. Paetus watched as the killer bore down directly on the three approaching men.
With a sigh, he hefted the rock.
“Apollo guide my hand.”
Ignoring the strange looks he received from the various others on the path, he drew back his arm and cast the stone with as much force as he could while maintaining a level of accuracy.
Priscus was looking back at the gang fight going on behind him and Crispus was looking at the nobleman he was helping along the street. The assassin whipped the freed blade from beneath his tunic and, brandishing it, pushed a startled woman out of the way, already lunging with a swipe aimed straight for Caelius’ neck.
It would have been an instant kill, had the thrown rock not connected with the man’s head and thrown him back into the crowd. The knife leapt, glittering, into the air before descending in an arc down to the ground.
Biting his lip, Paetus turned and began to hurry back up the sloping path, trying to appear as unremarkable as possible. Perhaps he still had time to catch up with Philopater before he became lost in the crowd at the forum.
As the figure of Paetus disappeared up the slope, the fight was already under control and swinging back in favour of Fronto’s men. Priscus and Crispus had pushed Caelius beneath the arch of the tavern doorway before Priscus lurched back through the crowd, grunting at the pain his crippled leg gave him, only to find the would-be assassin had vanished. He turned to locate Fronto, irritation gnawing at him, only to see the legate staring up at the Scalae Caci leading up to the Palatine with a curious look on his face.
“What’s up with you?”
“I honestly don’t know. Must be seeing things!”
“Well let’s get back to the house. I think we can safely say my appetite for violent sports is sated for the day!”
Fronto nodded and turned to gather his hirelings, finding it hard to tear his gaze away from the slope.
“No. Couldn’t have been.”
* * * * *
Fronto blinked. Cicero he had been expecting, but his companion? The elder Crassus carried with him a gravitas that instinctively made one want to bow. It was no wonder this man had held such pivotal roles in Roman government for the last fifteen years; no wonder that Caesar seemed to be bending over backwards to keep Crassus sweet. The man’s heavy brow and serious gaze turned back from conversation with Cicero and settled on Caelius Rufus and the small group accompanying him at the bottom of the steps.
“The date for the trial has been set” Cicero announced, as he left the staircase of the curia and alighted in the forum once more. “We have been most fortunate, not the least because of the political weight that our friend here carries.”
Caelius, between Fronto and Crispus, nodded with a mix of eagerness and fear. He had succumbed recently to bouts of mad depression, contemplating the seriousness of his situation, and Fronto was starting to worry about the man.
Crassus nodded toward his companion.
“Cicero is too generous with his praise. The Clodii pushed for as early a trial as the senate would allow, since their evidence is vague and tenebrous at best. Far better would it be for them to push the accusations before we have a chance to put together a solid defence.”
“We?” Caelius frowned.
“Yes” Cicero smiled. “Crassus here has agreed to stand as co-advocate for your trial. The good news is that we have persuaded the senate that an early trial would likely lead to misrepresentation and false information. We have managed not only to get the date set back to the beginning of Aprilis, giving us over a month to put your case together, but also to have the proceedings moved to the privacy of the Basilica Aemilia which will be closed for the session, rather than a public trial.”
Fronto frowned and cast his gaze around the square casually, heaving a sigh of relief as he spotted Galronus, arms folded, leaning on the inscribed panel above the lacus Curtius, three of the hired hands close by. Priscus stood on the steps of the temple of Concord, his eyes continua
lly strafing the forum for anything out of the ordinary, a small party of men at his shoulders.
“You’d best make the case tighter than a Greek’s arse” he stated emphatically. “Someone is very definitely out to remove Caelius from the picture. We’ve stopped half a dozen attempts on his life in the past two weeks. Another month? His chances diminish with each week, so make that time count.”
Crassus nodded in a vague recognition to Fronto. The legate couldn’t remember when he’d met the man before, but clearly Crassus recognised him.
“Keep him safe. The continued situation here appears to be driving a wedge between Clodius and his sister, and a disorganised opposition is always to be commended.” The statesman narrowed his eyes at Fronto. “Do you have any idea when Caesar plans to return to Rome or what his plans are?”
Fronto paused for just a moment, contemplating whether it would be prudent to disseminate such information.
“The general should be here in weeks at the latest. I’ve no idea what his plans are from there, but campaigning season’s almost here and knowing the old bas… knowing the general, he’ll have engineered some incursion by ice monsters from the north or some such for us to go and fight for the glory of… Rome.”
Crassus gave him a curious lop-sided smile.
“Caesar told me that you were outspoken. He seems to think this is a merit rather than a flaw and perhaps he is correct. Still, the fact remains that it is more than possible you will be off to ravage your ‘ice monsters’ before the trial actually begins. Have you given any thought to continued protection for the defendant here should you have to leave and join your legion?”
Fronto frowned. The thought hadn’t occurred to him. For the first time in years he’d wintered in Rome and had found that he’d actually enjoyed himself; particularly in the past few weeks with the added entertainment of villains to kick. He’d hardly spared a thought for the Tenth. Beside him, Crispus cleared his throat.
“I daresay that our favourite convalescing camp prefect would be more than adequate for the task. He is to stay in Rome on enforced leave and I suspect would welcome the distraction.”
Fronto grinned.
“Aye, Priscus knows what he’s doing; Caelius’ll be in good hands.”
Cicero and Crassus shared a glance and nodded.
“Very well,” Crassus smiled, “you just keep on doing what you’re doing and we shall begin putting the case together in detail. Cicero here has gathered copious notes, details and depositions over the past fortnight and we should have everything we need, though we may drop in from time to time when questions arise that only Caelius here can answer.”
Cicero changed hands with the tablets he was carrying and opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it sharply, a cloud falling across his face as he looked back up the steps.
Fronto turned to follow his gaze. The prosecution party had appeared at the entrance to the curia and begun to make its way down to the comitium where they stood. The legate spared a moment to take in everything he could of his enemy. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected from Clodius, but for some reason his mind had padded the man out with a rotund, sweaty form, dripping in jewellery and excess, piggy eyes greedily searching out his next vice. This mental image could hardly have been further from the truth.
Clodius was a handsome man of middle height, with neat black hair and high cheekbones, his form slim and athletic and attire suited to an austere public event. The man was, quite simply, stylish. Behind him stood the tall, olive figure of his ‘facilitator’, Philopater. Fronto had met the man a couple of times and had taken enough of a dislike to him that he had to restrain himself on sight. The other prosecutors had separated from the pair as they emerged and, without any exchange, had veered off to the left away from the gathering. As Clodius and his man approached, however, a new figure appeared at the doorway and stepped light and fast down the stairs to catch up with them.
Clodia was stunning. Her ebony tresses, pinned elegantly and woven around a diadem of silver filigree, surrounded a pale face that would make Venus green with envy. Her small and delicate form, dressed in a stola of midnight blue, seemed lithe and dextrous and almost glided down the steps. Fronto found that he was staring and wrenched his gaze away to glance at Caelius. He could quite see how the man had fallen for her charms.
Caelius’ downcast and miserable features had filled for a moment with a golden light as his eyes fell on her and, in that single moment, Fronto realised just how dangerous this woman could be.
“My dearest Cicero” Clodius announced as he reached the bottom of the steps, his sister catching up with them there. He held out his hands and clasped Cicero’s grudgingly proffered arm. “You spoke well in there; almost destroyed our case before it was even presented. I am, as ever, in awe of your oratory.”
Cicero smiled with a rictus and inclined his head slightly.
“Your prosecutors supply the ammunition. I merely use it.”
Anger flashed for a fraction of a second in Clodius’ eyes, but he forced it down and continued to smile.
“And Crassus. To have your illustrious presence gracing the court is always a joy.”
Fronto glowered at the man. Clodius was plainly the kind of man that Fronto hated most in the world: a devious thug, hiding behind a mask of civility. His attention was drawn once more to the figure now standing at the man’s side. Clodia smiled her most devastating smile at him and licked her lips. He tore his gaze quickly away from her and realised that Philopater was also watching him. What was it with these people?
Clodius nodded respectfully at Caelius.
“I am so sorry that events have come to this point. You have been like a brother to me. But then” he smiled sadly “my brother would have known better than to sleep with my sister, wouldn’t he?”
Caelius flinched and Fronto cleared his throat.
“I‘m a soldier, not a politician, and all this feigned civility is in danger of forcing my breakfast to make a reappearance and my sword arm’s beginning to itch. If we’re all done posturing, could we go our separate ways?”
Clodius laughed.
“You would be this Fronto I keep hearing of. Caesar must be a truly patient and forgiving man. But you are absolutely correct: let’s dispense with the pleasantries. My sister has a habit of involving herself in difficult and sticky situations. I would just as rather this whole affair had not occurred. Rest assured, Caelius, that, despite the best efforts of your two noble advocates, we will win the case and then you will be executed and your family will suffer grave dishonour.”
He smiled at Caelius rather unpleasantly.
“You could, of course, save us all the trouble, and take the honourable way out. I give you my word that no further motion will be made against your name if you remove the need for the trial.”
Clodia glared at her brother, but he ignored her. Fronto tried to ignore the fact that the woman’s gaze kept coming to rest on him, while the burning eyes of the Egyptian continued to bore into his skull.
Something clicked in his head in that moment. He’d been wondering why Clodius should be trying so hard to remove Caelius from the picture when it was he who pushed the trial in the first place, but the answer was obvious now. His sister was the source of the accusation and Clodius would rather have disassociated himself from the whole potentially-destructive matter had he the choice. Clodius was trying to make the problem go away in any way he could. Now Fronto really hated the man.
In a moment of insight that he would rather not have had, Fronto realised that it was a damn good job that this man and Caesar were enemies. Were they together, they could rule the world within a year with their unscrupulous methods. He flashed his teeth in an almost-smile at Clodius.
“I’d just as rather he didn’t fall on his sword quite yet. He’s staying with me and the mess would be appalling.”
Clodius frowned for a moment and then laughed.
“Very well. I have important matters to attend to. Philop
ater? Come!”
He bowed and, turning, strode away across the forum. The hook-nosed Egyptian nodded toward Fronto and made a strange sign with three fingers pointing at his own eyes and then at Fronto. The legate’s lip curled.
“See you soon.”
He watched Philopater until the man turned his back and then nodded to Crispus.
“Get Caelius back to the house and gather Galronus and Priscus and come meet me at the Taverna Arabia in an hour or so. We need to step up our routine if Caelius is going to live long enough to be tried. If young Cicero is at the house, bring him too. He said he’d be dropping by.”
Crispus nodded and turned to the small gang of men he currently commanded, gesturing them on and marching them back toward the Aventine. Cicero and Crassus let their gaze rest on Fronto for a while and finally Caesar’s patron pursed his lips.
“I am aware of your reputation, Fronto. With the current evidence, we can walk this trial through the way we want it. Leave matters in the hands of the lawyers and don’t do anything stupid that might give our opponents ammunition to use against us.”
Fronto grinned.
“Trust me!”
Crassus shook his head and muttered something to the elder Cicero that Fronto didn’t hear before the pair turned and strode away across the forum. Fronto watched them go, silently voicing his opinion of lawyers and politicians alike. Men like these had built the republic, yes, but then it was men like these that would destroy it too.
He almost jumped as he turned to leave and saw the startling green-blue eyes of Clodia locked on him. She had been so silent he’d forgotten she was there again.
“Can I help you?” he asked, with an audible trace of irritation.
“It would appear that my brother has left me to your tender care. It would be unseemly and dangerous for a lady to return home through the streets of the city without an escort.”
Marius Mules III: Gallia Invicta (Marius' Mules) Page 8