Marius Mules III: Gallia Invicta (Marius' Mules) (69 page)

“We lost twelve men from the guard, two slaves to the attackers and two to fire. Three men are wounded and one slave, but they’ll all mend in time. That leaves the household support at six slaves and Posco, and fourteen guards, not including the seven we have out in the city.”

“And the enemy?”

Now Cestus smiled unpleasantly.

“Twenty eight dead.” His smile became yet more vicious. “Well, there were twenty four, but we took the opportunity to finish off four more wounded ones we found when it got light.”

Fronto nodded.

“Not bad, given the circumstances.”

“There is one thing” the former gladiator said with a sigh. “Castor and Pollux, the two assassins, escaped. Don’t know how they got away, but they’re not among the bodies. Too clever, that pair.”

“No. That’s beneath us, Gnaeus.” He turned to Cestus. “Get all twenty nine, including Philopater, into a cart, take them down to the end of the street, opposite Bona Dea, and dump them in a pile, weapons and all. Let’s leave a no-nonsense message for Clodius.”

Cestus nodded and turned to leave, pausing for a moment.

“I’ll take six men to help and leave eight here with you. The other lads in the city will be reporting in shortly, so you should be safe.”

Clasping hands, he watched Priscus hobble off toward the baths, before turning to stride wearily through the corridors toward the garden.

“The years he has been gone have somewhat magnified his legend, mother. I fear he would have fared no better than we. Rome is changing. The city he knew is gone, replaced by a lawless labyrinth of intrigues and criminals.”

“Don’t be stupid, Faleria. You saw what happened last night. You’ve become targets now, and I simply won’t have that. You are leaving the city; today. Cestus will send a dozen men with you. You need to pack everything you want to keep from here in three carts and prepare to move out. After lunch you will be on the road back to Puteoli. The villa there has many more staff and is a long way from the gangs of Rome. When you get there, Faleria, you will speak to the decurions of the town and hire a large force to ‘work’ the estate. You need a force of at least fifty men at all times to make sure you’re safe.”

“The villa has the added bonus that, being outside the city, you can legally support a large armed force and don’t have to keep your blade sheathed.”

“Be careful what you wish for, my lady. Remember Sulla, the martial law and the proscriptions? Do you really want to see that happen again? Soldiers in the streets, gutters full of blood and fear in the eyes of all? The legions must not enter Rome, or we might as well say farewell to the republic for good.”

She sighed and the general smiled.

“Things will not always be like this. There are still men who care about Rome and her institutions: myself, Pompey and Crassus to name but three. Tomorrow we will meet and decide what must be done to put the city back in order, but Fronto is absolutely right to send you away in the meantime. Pompey has sent my daughter to his country estate already and my nephew-in-law has sent my niece and the children to his estate at Velitrae, though I am not convinced that will be far enough from the city for safety.”

“And I?” Lucilia said quietly. “What is to become of me? Will you send me to the Caecilii, or back to Massilia?”

Fronto shook his head.

“For now, neither. The journey home is too long and unsafe without an escort and I cannot spare the men. Equally, it is far too dangerous for you to stay in the city. Unless you have any objection, mother, I will send Lucilia with you to Puteoli?”

“I have sent word to Pompey and Crassus to arrange a meeting tomorrow, out of the city and somewhere safe, in neutral territory. I would like you to be there, Marcus, along with several others. In the meantime I have a great deal to do and am short on time and assistance. Could I borrow Posco for a few hours?”

“I would consider it an insult if you left without my seeing you off. I shall return by lunchtime and add my own arm to your escort from the city.”

“Come, my friend. I have several tasks for you. Firstly a visit to the records of the tabularium in the forum. Do you have a stylus and tablet? You’ll need them…”

As the two men left the room, Fronto walked across to help his mother rise from the couch. Every day she seemed a little older to his tired eyes.

“I think I had better rest a little” she sighed. “The slaves will know what to pack, if the fires have left us much to take.”

Her son smiled at her sadly and Faleria stood and took her mother’s arm as the two walked from the room, leaving him, coated with thick black dust and blood, alone with Lucilia. He looked wearily around at the house with its charred marks, sooty footprints and general disarray. There would be months’ worth of repairs to be done, though it was possible the house would be destroyed entirely this winter while unoccupied. Clearly he would not be staying here now.

“What will you do?”

He glanced round at the young lady who sat on the couch behind him. He had actually forgotten she was there.

“Caesar will arrange somewhere for Priscus, Galronus and myself to stay. Crispus offered us rooms with his family if we needed them.”

“Are you going to kill Clodius?”

Fronto turned and raised an eyebrow.

“I would love nothing more. Caesar is right, though: it cannot be done in the city. The weasel must be forced out of Rome before he can be dealt with. It may be a long job.”

He tapped his lip thoughtfully.

“Though there are other forces abroad that seek his end, and they are not so prey to Rome’s laws and traditions as we. A vengeful spirit follows Clodius and it is possible the man may meet the sunrise one morning lying next to his own head before I ever have the opportunity. For now it is more important to keep those we care about safe than to launch a dangerous war of revenge.”

Lucilia smiled.

“Your sister is more like you than she would like to admit, I think, Marcus. The pair of you argue and fight, spit and fume, but I believe you are closer than most, despite that.”

He sagged.

“Faleria is infuriating, but she is my sister. She is so much like my mother at times that I could almost scream. But then, in fairness, I am truly my father’s son, and that cannot be easy on either of them.”

A silence fell over the room and Fronto was surprised at how comfortable it felt. He suddenly wished he were accompanying them to Puteoli that afternoon.

“I have been unrelenting in my disapproval of you, Lucilia. It has made me a bad host and a bad friend. My apologies have been largely hollow and driven by wine.”

She smiled understandingly.

“Do not underestimate those around you, Marcus. I see nothing in you that I did not already know was there, and what you sometimes see as weaknesses, I can see as strengths. Your sister told me…”

She tailed off, uncertain as to how he would react, but Fronto merely sat back heavily on a couch and sighed.

“I know. She has spent years coming to terms with what happened and I assumed she was still… unhappy about it. She is far stronger than I gave her credit.”

“Yes it was. Verginius was killed by my inexperience, lack of ability and reckless attitude. I sent him to his death and I’ll never entirely forgive myself for that. And it was that which killed Carvalia too.”

Lucilia leaned forward.

“Faleria forgave you years ago. When the time comes and you can forgive
yourself
, I suspect a world of opportunity and happiness might just open up for you. I know you’re a perceptive man, Marcus, and you know my mind. I will wait for you in Puteoli until the demons stop chasing you.”

Fronto stared at her, a dozen emotions battering him in constant waves, leaving him feeling drained and yet less sure of himself. He watched as she rose, crossed to the door and, with a last, lingering look, walked off to her room, leaving him entirely alone.

Standing slowly, he crossed to the door, but she was already gone. Wearily he stepped across the threshold, around the peristyle, and to the armoury that stored so many memories. With a sigh, he lifted the baldric over his head, uncomfortably, and held the sheathed sword tightly. For a long moment he stared down at the weapon, a quality blade freshly made so many years ago for an eager young tribune heading off to fight with Caesar in Spain.

* * * * *

Fronto grunted with the release of tension as he lay flat on the bench at the side of the caldarium. He had arrived at the cold bath to find the water a dark grey where first Galronus and then Priscus had dunked themselves. Shaking his head with a smile, he had added his own sooty coating to the slick floating on the surface and then strode through to the hot room to find Priscus standing at the large labrum, washing himself down to remove the last remaining traces of the filth.

The presence of a strigil and towel lying in a pile at the room’s centre announced that Galronus had been and gone. The Belgic officer had taken to bathing after the Roman fashion, but still held a faint and unshakable distrust of the process.

“I see you decided to skip the full experience and just dip and wash?”

Priscus shrugged as he crossed the room and lay down on the bench opposite, the steam in the room billowing up and making Fronto’s face hazy in the cloud of white.

“I’ve got rather used to this, you know? Two years of bathing in weed-infested Gaulish rivers makes you appreciate the simple comforts. Though at least a running river would clean us more thoroughly in this state.”