Marius' Mules V: Hades' Gate (48 page)

Fronto frowned, shaking his head slightly. It was a surprising offer and despite the fact that he would trust a snake sooner than this man, there was little doubt that he spoke the truth. After all, it must be irking Clodius to have to come here with such an offer after the trouble Fronto had dealt him in the past. And to have to enter this house unarmed was a tremendous risk. Caesar must not have asked him to do it; he must have demanded it.

"I am not unaware of the value of the offer, Clodius, and you can transmit to Caesar a genuine apology that I cannot accept it, but there are matters that need to be attended to here before I can even consider any future moves, and while I would still consider serving Caesar again, I will not ever, in the world of men, place the wellbeing of my loved ones into your treacherous, wicked, devious hands. If it is a one-time offer then I regret saying no, but no it must be."

Clodius straightened.

"Sad that your anger blinds you to possibilities. Your distrust of me is greater than your need to stand in the field once more? To conquer the barbarian? To avenge your friend Crispus?"

Fronto stepped away from the door for a moment, his arms unfolding.

"What?"

"I can believe that you detach yourself from the deaths of so many unnamed comrades at the hands of those Gallic savages, but I am led to understand that young Crispus was a close friend. Have you not the urge to chastise his killers?"

"Crispus?" Fronto snapped, stepping forward again. His mind filled with flashes of the young legate, his fresh, boyish face at odds with the uniform he wore. In another world, Crispus might have been his son. He was actually of an
age
to be, and yet was as good a friend as Balbus in the next room.

"Crispus is dead?"

Clodius' face became a picture of surprise and Fronto narrowed his eyes. The man appeared to be genuinely taken aback.

"You haven't been informed? Strange. He fell to a treacherous Gaul some months ago during an attempted escape by an Aeduan prisoner. His ashes were brought back to the city and will be interred in the family mausoleum by now." He stood slowly. "I do apologise for breaking the news so suddenly. I assumed you knew. I feel bound to make one last plea on behalf of our mutual benefactor. Caesar needs good men in Gaul and he recognises you as one of them. Will you go?"

Fronto turned and pulled open the door he had been leaning against. His eyes were cold and flinty. "Tell the general in your next letter that I am truly sorry to decline and that in the future, when circumstances allow, I would reconsider, but for now I must look to my family."

Clodius nodded.

"Then I had best leave. Perhaps Caesar will extend his generosity in future times. I would rather we served the same master than meet as enemies."

Fronto's glare hardened further. "If I ever return to Caesar, it will be to serve
with
him, not to serve him and, whatever the future might hold, you and I will never be less than enemies. Pompey and Milo may be mutual adversaries, but the divide between you and I is uncrossable, Clodius Pulcher. Thank you for your offer but now you must leave, and you are no longer welcome in the house of the Falerii."

Clodius simply smiled his snake smile again and walked calmly past Fronto and out into the atrium. His host followed and paused for a moment in the doorway. Balbus now had his gladius unsheathed and was running the fingers of his left hand over the point in a decidedly threatening manner. A few paces away Galronus stood, arms folded, blocking the way out towards the garden, his face sour yet unreadable.

Crossing the atrium, Fronto opened the house's main door once more and waited as the unwelcome guest passed through and into the street. Clodius turned on the step to speak, but the door closed in his face as he began.

Turning back from the portal, Fronto peered into the atrium and walked slowly back towards the two men there.

"Crispus is dead."

His eyes narrowed as Balbus stepped back, this fresh unpleasant news managing even to break through the shell of obdurate and implacable emotionlessness that the older man had worn since the death of his wife. Galronus, however, looked distinctly uneasy.

"You knew?"

The Remi nobleman nodded slowly.

"How?"

"A letter from Priscus. It came for you a week or so ago."

"And you opened it?"

"You had a lot on your mind, as did Balbus. I saw no harm in it, but when I read the news…" he sighed. "Well, I hardly thought that this was the time to burden you both. After all, he didn't fall in battle, but was killed in cold blood by a rebel. You were in no fit state to hear that then. I thought perhaps in a month or two, when things had calmed down…"

Fronto's hand came up threateningly as he took a step angrily towards his friend, but Balbus was suddenly between them.

"He's right, Fronto. It's just added misery and another step on the stairway to Hades. Don't know about you, but I'd rather not have known. We'll mourn him tonight with Corvinia, and tomorrow we'll start work on revenge. First the Germanic monstrosity who killed my wife, and then we'll look to the sons of Celtic whores who killed our friend."

Fronto stood for a moment, his gaze swapping back and forth between the two men.

"I want to see that letter, Galronus. Whatever your intentions, don't keep things like that from me again. I want you and Palmatus to go down to the markets and fill a cart with everything we need for a proper send off for Corvinia and Crispus. And don't stint on the wine. Get a lot - good stuff too."

"I will, Marcus. But there's something else you need to see, first."

Fronto's brow creased again at the strange tone of his friend's voice.

"What?"

"In the garden."

* * * * *

For the second time that morning, Fronto stopped dead at a doorway, surprised by what he saw.

On the gravel walkway around the small fountain, which was now missing a number of pieces of decorative stonework following their regular sparring sessions, stood Masgava and Palmatus, each with a drawn sword - one a notched gladiatorial sica and the other a well-used military gladius. Both blades' points were hovering a hair's breadth from either side of their prisoner's neck.

Fronto took two more steps out into the garden, Galronus at one shoulder and Balbus at the other, and shook his head in bemusement at the surprises the day was bringing.

"Paetus? What in the name of seven stinking latrine demons are you doing in my garden?"

The former Camp Prefect of Caesar's army, betrayed by both Clodius and the general, presumed dead on a Belgic battlefield and now back in Rome vowing revenge on his betrayers, smiled coldly.

"It's been a long time, Fronto. Could you have these two raise their blades, you think?"

Masgava and Palmatus kept their weapons hovering over his jugular.

"I don't think so."

Galronus kicked something across the floor and Fronto looked down to see a bronze dagger with a wide crosspiece moulded straight to the blade and tapering slowly to an almost needle-point. A Parthian weapon, if Fronto was any judge.

"This yours?"

Paetus nodded fractionally, aware that too much head movement could draw blood in his current situation.

"You know I have no grudge against you, Fronto. Jove, I've even saved your life a couple of times."

"No quarter offered, Paetus, until you tell me what you're doing armed in my garden."

"Can't you guess, Marcus?" He sighed. "Missing an opportunity is what."

Palmatus pricked the very tip of his blade into Paetus' neck, drawing a tiny bead of blood. "This piece of shit was lurking on the roof, looking down into your atrium, Fronto. Masgava knocked me back to the rear wall when we were fighting, which is bloody lucky, else we wouldn't have seen him at all."

Masgava nodded.

"You're after Clodius?" Fronto asked quietly. "I assumed you'd given up or gone to ground. I've not heard a word of you for over a year." Shaking his head, he gestured to the two men beside the prisoner. "You can let him go. He was here to try and kill Clodius. Can't blame him for that - I felt the urge myself, frankly."

As the two men lowered their swords, Fronto bent and picked up the eastern knife.

"Not over-keen on you attempting to murder a prominent politician under my roof, though, Paetus. I'd prefer it if you could keep your private war out of my house."

The former prefect rubbed his neck, looking at the smear of crimson on his finger as it came away.

"You've some good men here, Fronto. Quick and steady." Stretching, he shrugged. "I've been itching to get to the slimy piece of crap for over a year, but he's permanently protected. I've come close three times now and even managed to get into his house once, but every close call just makes the man more paranoid and draw another level of armour round him. I almost couldn't believe my eyes when he walked unescorted into your house. He doesn't even visit his own clients without an armed guard."

Fronto tossed the Parthian blade into the air, watching it twist as it rose and fell and then catching it by the point and proffering it to Paetus, who took it and sheathed it at his belt.

"So you took your opportunity?"

"You'd be surprised how easy it is to get onto your roof unseen. You might want to look at that, given the number of enemies you have, Fronto."

"I'll manage."

Paetus nodded towards the small table by the stone bench where the Jewish physician had furled his scrolls and was watching with interest. On the table sat a bowl of fruit.

"May I?"

"Be my guest," Fronto replied, "since you apparently are anyway."

Paetus reached out and took an apple, shining it on his tunic and then taking a bite and savouring the taste.

"I miss fresh fruit."

Fronto simply raised his eyebrow questioningly. Paetus grinned. "Sadly, my family's few remaining funds ran out during the winter and I was forced to seek employment in order to fund my ongoing campaign to bring down that monster and his master."

Since Fronto remained silent and questioning, Paetus took another bite and shrugged again.

"I've signed on with Annius Milo."

Galronus and Balbus were suddenly next to the man, three blades wavering at him as Galronus cracked his knuckles. Fronto smiled unpleasantly.

"Milo has no friends here, Paetus. I think you've just outstayed your welcome."

"Come on, Fronto. Milo holds you in surprisingly high esteem, no matter what Pompey might do. And I'm no Pompeian myself - they're just a means to an end. If anyone other than me stands a chance of gutting Clodius it's him."

"Still, I think it's time for you to go."

Paetus smiled and chewed on the apple. "By all means. But I think it only fair to warn you that you might want to think about leaving too."

"Milo doesn't scare me, Paetus."

"It's not Milo to whom I refer. Pompey has given us strict instructions that we are not to lay a finger on you. I suspect he worries that any further interference will damage his political standing in the city. No… there's others that
you
need to worry about."

Balbus' blade touched Paetus' breastbone, forcing the man to step back almost into the pond.

"Berengarus the German? His time is almost up."

The former prefect nodded. "He's a big one, but I can see how you lot would have no fear of him. Yet I still think you need to reconsider."

"Why?" interjected Elijah, leaning forward from his seat and grasping a plum from the bowl. "What has changed?"

Paetus rolled his shoulders. "Yesterday we escorted Pompey to the Carcer."

Fronto had a flash-memory of the unpleasant, dark prison with its animalistic denizens shuffling around behind the bars; the wraith that had addressed him when he visited.

"The carcer?"

"Yes. The great Pompey, in a moment of magnanimity, ordered that all the inmates he had interred there be freed."

Fronto squeezed his eyes shut. "And Berengarus was there too, I have no doubt."

"He was in the street out the front, yes."

"Did you hear anything more?"

"Sadly, not. We were simply escorting the general. Beyond hearing the initial order I was kept busy, but I think I can extrapolate on what's about to happen. As, I note from your expression, can you."

Balbus turned his head sharply. "Fronto?"

"There are some wicked, horribly dangerous men in there, Quintus. Or there
were
. Freed and on the streets, they'll have had nowhere to go, but I suspect the big German has a job or two for them."

Paetus smiled. "As I said, we were told not to harm you, so that's exactly what I shall do. We weren't told the Carcer visit was a secret, though, so there you are. Consider it a friendly and timely warning, for the sake of the old days. You've a bad history of getting the shit kicked out of you in this house. Run away, Fronto, while you still can."

Fronto pinched the bridge of his nose and gestured with his thumb over his shoulder towards the atrium. Masgava and Palmatus escorted Paetus from the garden. There were no goodbyes but, as the man disappeared into the darkness, he said "Run, Fronto."

He opened his eyes to find Balbus staring at him.

"What?"

"We can't run, Marcus. The monster needs to die for what he's done."

"I don't disagree, Balbus, but we're not talking about one man now; we might be talking a dozen, and they're mostly going to be very experienced killers. I cannot imagine what was going through Pompey's mind. He's unleashed a plague just to get at me."

Balbus took a step forward. "Don't tell me you're actually thinking of running away, Marcus."

Fronto shook his head and heaved in a deep breath.

"Not as such…"

"Marcus, I have to see this through. Even if you run, I cannot."

"I don't want to run, Quintus, but we're just hopelessly unprepared to deal with this. Alright there are six of us here right now, and even though I'm sure Galronus will stay with us whatever happens, Palmatus and Masgava are free men. They are entitled to leave. And the good physician over there? Well it's not his fight and even if he decided to stay, he's hardly a bred killer! Two years running now I've fought for my life in this place. It's not lucky. Fortuna's gaze doesn't fall on this house no matter how much I pray to her, and you heard how easily Paetus found it to get in."