Marius' Mules Anthology Volume 1

by S. J. A. Turney

  ‘Yes… well, I’m a city man myself. Pavement and… and so on’ he finished weakly. He was finding it extremely hard not to focus on her low neckline with the way the golden glow from the window seemed to focus there.

  Lucilia laughed again.

  ‘Father will be very pleased to see you. I’m sure he’s rushing through the villa as we speak at a breakneck speed somewhat detrimental to his health.’

  Fronto looked up, tearing his eyes from her chest as he gratefully found a subject to concentrate on.

  ‘How is your father’s health? I have worried all season.’

  Lucilia smiled warmly.

  ‘He appears to have taken what happened on duty as a warning. He has slowed his pace of life a great deal, though not’ she added drily ‘his love of the vine. I fear that comes from his association with his colleagues.’

  Fronto smiled.

  ‘Wine never did anyone real harm.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ She sighed. ‘No, father is actually in as good a health as I have seen him in years. He plans great works for the villa, but truly few of them are started as he seems to prefer to walk in the orchards and to pop down to the town to visit the markets.’

  ‘Good,’ Fronto said with a relieved sigh. ‘And your mother?’

  ‘Mother is good. She will be busy finalising everything now that she knows you’re here.’

  Once more, Fronto’s brow fell into his customary frown, but before he could say anything, there was a shout from the corridor.

  ‘Marcus? By all the Gods it was about time you showed up.’

  Fronto stood as Balbus appeared, clad in his tunic and breeches and nothing more. He looked so out of place without the addition of sword and cuirass it took a moment to adjust. Balbus had thinned down considerably in the few months, though not unhealthily so. He appeared more lithe and muscular than he had when he had carried the extra meat required in the field.

  ‘You look so much better than I feared, my friend.’

  ‘It’s been months, Marcus. I’ve had time to recuperate. What kept you?’

  Fronto rolled his eyes.

  ‘Gaul, as usual, kept its claws in us until winter was threatening. Finally, I think we can say we have the whole damned place under control. Most of the officer corps is waiting on the hill above to come and check on you, but they deferred to me first.’

  He felt something brush his wrist and shuddered involuntarily, turning to see that Lucilia had stood and crossed the room to his side.

  ‘I must go and make sure that mother is being thorough. I will see you later, Marcus.’

  He stuttered an affirmative noise as she raised herself on her toes and kissed his cheek before sweeping from the room as though she were floating.

  ‘You’ve gone red’ Balbus said with a smile.

  ‘Lucilia’s changed. She’s quite… forward.’

  Again the older man laughed.

  ‘She knows what she’s doing. She is the shadow of her mother at that age.’

  Fronto nodded and turned, his brow furrowing again.

  ‘What was she saying about her mother finalising things? It sounded like you were expecting me for something.’

  Balbus gestured to a seat and clapped his hands. Before they had fully relaxed onto the couches, Caro had reappeared with a tray, two goblets and a jar of wine.

  ‘This would be your ‘wrong’ wine?’

  Balbus smiled.

  ‘Happily just mislabelled. I would hate to have had to send it back, given the costs of transporting anything back to Latium.’

  The two men sipped, and Fronto pursed his lips.

  ‘You neatly avoided my question.’

  ‘I would have preferred to have broached the matter later, at my own leisure.’

  ‘And once I was up to the eyeballs in soothing wine?’ Fronto relied astutely.

  Balbus smiled.

  ‘I have a favour to ask of you.’

  ‘Go on…’

  ‘Lucilia is to go to Rome. I am contemplating a match between her and a young man of the Caecilii, but I will not confirm anything until she has had the chance to approve or disapprove. I will not match her against her will.’

  Fronto nodded, relieved for some unknown reason, by the news.

  ‘Good family, the Caecilii. She could do well. Why with me, though? Would she not be better travelling with you?’

  Balbus shrugged.

  ‘The medicus has warned me against strenuous travel for some time yet, and you know the crossing from Massilia in the autumn and winter months. No, I must stay here until the winter is past, but Lucilia must go to Rome.’

  Fronto nodded.

  ‘I would be remiss in my duty to a friend if I refused, Quintus. Where will she be staying? With the Caecilii?’

  ‘Hardly, Marcus. It would be rather unseemly, at least until a match is agreed, to land her upon their doorstep. I was hoping…’ he smiled weakly. ‘Well your sister might take her under her wing and…’

  Fronto blinked.

  ‘Gods, you want to turn her into another Faleria? Are you mad? Rome trembles at the presence of just one!’

  Balbus smiled uncomfortably.

  ‘I was dreading asking you. I have a cousin who can look after her, of course.’

  Fronto sat silently, his teeth grinding.

  ‘No. Of course she must stay with Faleria.’ He smiled wearily. ‘I, however, may have to descend on your cousin with a third woman adding to the matriarchy that is my house.’

  Balbus laughed.

  ‘I have missed your companionship, Marcus. Will you have time to stay for a few days? Corvinia has everything packed and prepared, of course. She has had for months, in case you flew past in a hurry once again.’

  Fronto grinned.

  ‘I am in something of a hurry to get home, for certain, but a few days would hardly cost me the world. Of course, at least for a few hours you are going to have to play host to the general’s staff who are waiting on the hill, no doubt impatiently, to descend on you. There are friends among them, though: Crispus and Varus among others. It may be that Galronus will also arrive shortly. We had word that he and Crassus and a few others passed through Narbo several days ago to meet up with us before we take ship.’

  Balbus smiled and leaned back with his goblet.

  ‘Then we had best spend a private half hour in happy contemplation of the vine before we send out to them, eh? I’m sure you have much to tell me.’

  Fronto leaned back, reached for the goblet on the table before him and sagged into the chair as the tension of months flooded out along with the easy conversation.

  * * * * *

  The party of officers had gathered on the roadway in front of the villa. Fronto frowned as he stepped out of the doorway. Caesar and several of the officers who had no connection to Balbus had made their excuses and left politely the day after they had first arrived, not wishing to put any pressure on the family to accommodate so many guests. The rest had respectfully left the villa then and found temporary lodgings in Massilia until Fronto was ready to sail.

  He had expected Crispus, Brutus and Varus, and had hoped to see Galronus, since the officers from the Seventh had apparently arrived in Massilia late the previous evening, but the other four were more of a surprise. Roscius, the quiet and thoughtful legate of the Thirteenth, had separated from the other Illyrian officers who would be taking a different ship, and his presence was unexpected. More surprising was that of Crassus and two of his tribunes that Fronto did not know and particularly the fact that one of these tribunes stood in pleasant conversation with Galronus and the two were laughing. There would be time to ask questions on the voyage, of course.

  Turning his back on the men, he stepped to one side to allow Lucilia room to pass, Caro, the house’s head slave walking patiently behind her with both arms straining under the weight of her travelling gear. Fronto shook his head in mock disbelief and smiled as he saw the almost hidden look in Caro’s eye.

  As he turne
d back to the door, the three remaining family members filled the portal. Balbina stepped forward, and Fronto crouched to hug her.

  ‘Will you come back soon?’

  The legate grinned.

  ‘I will be here in December, at the latest. I try to be away from home during the Saturnalia, as my sister tends to become a little disapproving of my behaviour during the festival, and Galronus tells me that the following day they have a huge festival to a horse goddess called Epona in Gaul.’

  Balbus nodded.

  ‘In Massilia they have a full day of horse races and feasting.’

  ‘Yes, I suspect that’s what Galronus has in mind.’

  He stood once more, and Corvinia reached out and embraced him.

  ‘It has been good to see you again, Marcus. We shall have rooms prepared for you and your friends from the Ides of December onwards, but do not be reticent. Come early if you wish it. Please pass on my regards to your family.’

  Fronto smiled as they separated.

  ‘Should you have the chance to visit Rome next year, do call in. My mother would be more than happy to meet you, I’m sure.’

  He turned to Balbus.

  ‘Another farewell, eh Quintus?’

  The older man smiled.

  ‘A temporary one. Two months and I’ll see you again. Corvinia might even let me join you and Galronus at the circuit.’

  ‘I doubt it’ she replied with a sly smile.

  Fronto grinned at him.

  ‘It feels like I’ve only been here a few moments. I would stay on, but there are things that need my attention at home. You understand?’

  Balbus nodded.

  ‘Go help Priscus look after your family. Tell him I asked after him.’

  ‘I will.’

  The small group spent a moment in silence before Fronto took a deep breath and picked up his bag of freshly laundered clothes.

  ‘Right. Off to jolly old sea we go.’

  With a smile, he turned his back to the villa and strode out to the waiting party. He was amused to see the reactions Lucilia was causing. Crassus was openly admiring her, Varus had a strange smirk on his face as though he were weighing her up in some way, and Crispus was looking almost anywhere but directly at her.

  ‘Very well gentlemen, and lady of course. Shall we depart?’

  Caro bowed respectfully.

  ‘Just throw those on the cart, Caro. You don’t need to lug them all the way to the docks.’

  The slave looked across at Lucilia hopefully, and she smiled at him.

  ‘Go and look after father.’

  Caro carefully stacked and wedged the luggage in the cart and then delicately helped the young lady up into it before bowing and returning to the villa.

  Watching the family in the doorway, waving their goodbyes, Fronto smiled a last smile at them and clambered up onto Bucephalus and trotted off after the party that had already begun to descend the gravelled path down toward the bustling metropolis below.

  Falling in at the back, he stretched and leaned back, exposing his face to the late autumn sunlight before glancing once more with some trepidation at the rocking boats in the harbour and the churning surface of the Mare Nostrum.

  ‘She’s going to cause you trouble.’

  He blinked and turned to see the grinning face of Varus, riding along next to him. It took him a moment to realise that the man was speaking of Lucilia and not the sea herself.

  ‘She’s going to meet a suitor in Rome. If anything, I’m just a chaperone.’

  Varus laughed.

  ‘I think you could be in for a surprise there, my friend. I saw those looks of hers. Keep your drawstring tight and your bedroom door locked.’

  Fronto glared at him.

  ‘That’s Balbus’ daughter you’re talking about, Varus.’

  ‘My point precisely’ the man replied with a grin.

  Fronto turned back to face the party ahead. Lucilia rode almost regally, her travelling cloak having already fallen slightly to reveal pale, creamy shoulders. He swallowed hard and flashed a nervous look across at Varus, who merely grinned and nodded.

  * * * * *

  The legate of the Tenth, veteran of numerous wars, recipient of the corona civica, and senior commander in the army of the praetor Julius Caesar, groaned and heaved once more as what was left of his stomach contents disappeared into the roiling waves.

  ‘I feel bloody awful.’

  Crispus smiled sympathetically.

  ‘You’ve gone a very curious colour. I can’t decide whether it’s green, yellow or purple depending upon the light.’

  Fronto glared at him and spat angrily into the water.

  ‘Charming of Varus to offer me a nice fatty piece of pork, just when…’

  He stopped talking and threw himself against the rail, making retching sounds.

  ‘Stop thinking about it. He was only doing it for a joke. He didn’t know you were as bad a sailor as this. No one did. Gods, I don’t know whether I’ve ever met a worse sailor. The sea’s hardly moving.’

  The legate lifted his head once again to glare at his young friend.

  ‘Don’t mock your elders.’

  The two men fell silent, a friendly smile on the young officer’s face as he patted Fronto on the shoulder sympathetically.

  ‘You poor dear.’

  Fronto turned to stare in surprise at Crispus and then realised the voice had come from elsewhere. Of course. Feminine.

  Lucilia strode along the deck, her gait steady and rolling with the pitch of the deck as though she had been at sea all her life. Fronto grimaced.

  ‘I’m alright. Just a little seasick.’

  ‘I shall leave you in my lady Lucilia’s capable hands while I return to the table.’ Crispus laughed.

  Fronto shot him a desperate glance, shaking his head barely perceptibly, but the man slapped him on the shoulder, grinned, and strode off back toward the wooden housing at the rear of the large merchant vessel that served as dining room for the travellers.

  He tried to straighten, but the strength seemed to have flooded from him and instead, he slumped against the railing and wiped his mouth on the back of his wrist.

  ‘You really do appear to be very unwell. You’ve been vomiting for almost an hour.’

  ‘Thanks for noticing.’ Fronto grumbled. ‘Crispus is the only one who felt it worth coming to check on me. I could have been turning inside out or thrown up my liver by now.’

  Lucilia gave him a gentle smile.

  ‘Don’t be so dramatic. It’s a little seasickness; bad, yes, but hardly terminal. It may surprise you to hear that strong, unwatered wine, with the addition of ginger, is a traditional cure for the ailment among the Greek sailors in Massilia.’

  Fronto glared at her.

  ‘I hardly think I’ll be taking the advice of a nation that would bed a goat it if fluttered its eyelashes.’

  She laughed.

  ‘You get so very grumpy when you’re ill. And intolerant.’

  He issued another growl and returned to looking down at the waves for a moment before he had to close his eyes again and concentrate hard on keeping his innards where they belonged.

  ‘I sometimes wonder if you are alone because of your little quirks, or if you have these little quirks because you are alone.’

  The legate heaved himself up from the railing.

  ‘I think that officially ends our conversation.’

  With difficulty, he sidled along the rail away from Lucilia, but she doggedly followed, a curious and thoughtful look on her face.

  ‘There must be some reason. I asked my father, and all he knows is that you apparently never had time. That’s a pathetic excuse if ever I heard one. I’m curious.’

  ‘Don’t be.’ He said flatly and without a trace of humour.

  ‘You don’t have to be quite so guarded around me, Marcus. You’d be surprised just how open and understanding I am.’

  She hooked her arm around his as he leaned on the rail and he pul
led away angrily.

  ‘Will you leave me be? I’m ill, and there are some things we are simply not going to talk about.’

  She smiled.

  ‘Very well. I’m sure your sister will tell me in time.’

  She jumped as Fronto wheeled on her and grasped her by the shoulders.

  ‘This is a subject you are forbidden to raise with Faleria, do you understand me?’ he growled, furiously.

  Lucilia stared at him and nodded her head, a frightened look on her face.

  ‘Of course… I’m sorry, Marcus. I didn’t mean…’

  He turned his back on her and leaned over the rail.

  As she turned away, tears in her eyes, and ran toward the wooden shelter, Fronto growled at the passing waves. Curiously, the anger that had risen in him had completely overwhelmed the illness and left him feeling a lot stronger; physically, at least.

  He would have to apologise to her eventually of course, but she could stew for an hour first to discourage any further enquiries in that direction.

  ‘You realise that you’ll have to do something soon?’

  Fronto turned in surprise toward the prow to find Crassus looking at him with a strange and unreadable expression.

  ‘She may look cowed at the moment,’ the young officer noted, ‘but she’s a fiery one. She’ll not let this rest, and sooner or later she’ll hear the story from your sister if she doesn’t hear it from you.’

  The legate of the Tenth blinked.

  ‘I wasn’t aware that you knew?’

  Crassus smiled sadly.

  ‘I was at her wedding, Fronto. I don’t remember whether Varus was there, but it’s entirely possible that he was too. He was certainly in Rome at the time and moved in Faleria’s circles. It’s hardly a secret, after all.’

  Fronto took a deep breath and leaned back.

  ‘Old wounds should not be reopened. You don’t have to be a capsarius to know that.’

  ‘I’m not sure any medicus would agree that this particular one ever truly closed.’ Fronto grunted and leaned over the rail again.

  ‘She is a prize, Fronto. She looks at you with little less than naked hunger, and that is rare for a man like you.’

  ‘Thanks. That’s a charming sentiment.’