‘Kill you? Gods, no. It’s not that simple. What revenge would there be in your death? No. Death is paltry. What happened to me goes way beyond death. And my revenge will come, but I felt it important that you knew the tale first – that you know what happened to me, all because you dropped me in a panic and ran. I’d have died if you took me back, and that would have been so much better than what I endured . No. Not kill you. ’
‘Verginius, there can still be a good end to this.’
Now there was a bark of laughter from the shadows. ‘In what way, Marcus? You’ll take me back to Rome? To Faleria where we can have children and live out a happy patrician life? Hardly.’
Next to Fronto, Galronus tensed and rose, his knuckles whitening on the grip of both swords as he started to step down the stairs until Fronto reached out and grabbed his arm. The silence this time was leaden with import.
‘ I see. This Belgian is Faleria ’ s now ? Fascinating. I imagine she mourned for some time , though .’
‘Every day for most of a decade,’ Fronto said bitterly. ‘She never married.’
‘But now this man wants her? Is he a citizen? Has Caesar made him Roman. I hear he does that. Fear not for Faleria, Fronto. I could never be hers now. I have been the smiling king of the Arenosio too long. But this is between Fronto and me, Belgian . Run home to Faleria and comfort her. She’ll need it soon enough.’
Galronus snarled something in his own language and Fronto frowned in surprise and incomprehension.
‘Ha. Your language is rather odd, Remi, ’ Verginius said, ‘ to a man weaned on the tongue of the mountain men. I see you carry my sword. You have no idea what I went through to retrieve that. It had been kept by the Ilergetes along with my armour and it took me two years and a lot of threats and favours to retrieve it . I had planned to use it on Caesar when he came, but of course it wasn’t Caesar in the end. It was Fronto, a nd death by the blade would be too simple for Marcus. But you have to leave that sword here when you run home to Faleria , though, Belgian . If she sees it she will know it for mine, and that will cause her unnecessary pain.’
Galronus took another step forward down the stairs toward the stage, and Fronto rose and grabbed his arm again .
‘No , Galronus . It won’t help. He has his men with him. This Ategnio at the least. ’ He turned back to the stage and raised his voice.
‘So what happens now, Verginius?’
Silence stretched across the theatre. ‘He’s gone,’ Galronus said quietly, and as Fronto let go of his arm the two men jogged down toward the stage. As they went, Galronus passed Fronto his sword, and the two of them crossed the orchestra and bounded up onto the stage , searching the place. Three curtained doorways led through the scene building and into the rooms at the rear where the actors would assemble. In the middle one they found the exterior door open. Dipping through it, they glanced this way and that along the narrow alley below the brick wall of a tall warehouse. The alley was empty.
‘What do we do now?’ Galronus muttered, angrily.
‘ We move about carefully. Whatever I said and however I intended things to go, it seems I am still, inevitably, playing Verginius’ game. I don’t know what the goal is, but it seems not to be death, and he’s not after you. We stay alert for his next move and we try and get every eye and ear in the city on our side so that we can hope to anticipate it. What did you say to him in your own language?’
‘ I called him a … I don’t think I can say it in Latin. It’s something you need to be pretty agile to do, and you need a very pliable goat. ’
And despite everything, Fronto couldn’t help laughing.
Early Junius
Verginius peered down at the wooden lump he had been whittling. It had formed into a rudimentary human shape now. He’d not decided entirely who it would be , though, since he was whittling largely to keep his mind from wandering to subjects with which he was ill prepared to deal . It felt somehow disrespectful to make it the goddess who had preserved him , and he had little care or veneration for the other deities of the local tribes. And the Roman gods had clearly turned their back s on him when Fronto did. He still had the Nemesis figure around his neck, though. It was the twin of Fronto’s and that was important. It had taken him longer to retrieve that than his sword, for the cold lady of vengeance alone of all Rome’s pantheon still came to him and soothed his heart. Perhaps he would make a Ne mesis figurin e for Ategnio.
‘I am done with this,’ said a nervous voice by the window.
Verginius turned slowly . As his eyes scoured the room in passing, they took in the body of the man hanging dead from the wall. A rather f at, sweaty Roman by the long-winded name of Gaius Domitius Gemellus Nascae Priscianus – one of the ordo , the ruling council , of Tarraco. In Verginius’ experience it was those who felt the need to prove a lineage who pushed for every name they could achieve , his own father and family being a case in point . Priscianus was one of those men who had been tasked with the resettlement of the Ilergetes and the recovery of Roman resources after the revolt over a decade ago. Specifically, he was given the region of the battle itself and the local settlements. He had spent as little time as possible on the task, though, and even less effort or finance. It had been Priscianus who had not devoted any resources to retrieving the dead from the site of the battle or setting up a monument to the lost. Instead, he had siphoned off the money meant for such things to help pay for this spacio us place on the edge of Tarraco and in the end it had been Fronto, oddly, who had commemorated the event. Still, Priscianus had now paid the price for his greed and laziness and in the process had provided Verginius and his people with a place to hole up that would never occur to Fronto.
Finally, his roving eyes fell upon the speaker.
‘Gerexo? You have something to share with us?’
The warrior had the good sense to look thoroughly edgy. The last man who had denied Verginius had paid for it badly.
‘I made no vow to a god. I promised you, my king, when you were my king. But the Arenosio are beaten. They are gone, and you are no longer king. My vow is done. It is void. So are those of the others. You are dragging us along on some personal revenge against a man we don’t even know. And we are dying for it. And what will we get out of it in the end? Nothing. Beca use you are no long er the king. Come on, you lot… j oin me. Why should we die for this man now?’
‘Because a vow is a vow, and vows are all sacred,’ Verginius said in little more than a whisper. ‘ All of them.’
‘And when Fronto has paid we shall rise again,’ Ategnio said in a flat tone. ‘ The Arenosio were nothing. A small mountain tribe who fought each other so much we were not powerful enough to worry anyone else. Then the gods brought us the smiling king. And we became the lords of the mountains, rulers of a score of tribes. So what if we lost that? Verginius rose from slavery to rule us all. You think he cannot do it again?’
There were nods of agreement from others in the room, though Verginius kept his mouth shut, his hard eyes on Gerexo. There would be no coming back. He knew it. This was the en d of the game, and there was no return. But let Ategnio think it, and let him tell the others what their bruised egos needed to hear if it made them follow. What did Verginius care ? But what he did care about was oath -breakers. It was why he would see his long-standing vows regarding Fronto and Caesar through to the end whatever his personal feelings . He had to. Otherwise what was he? Little more than walking meat.
‘Gerexo, you took an oath. You made a vow. Such things are not lightly done, and they can only be released, not broken. A broken oath is a sacrilege to god and to man. It would make you worthless. Less than human. Only animals cannot understand why a vow must be kept, and so only animals can be excused from one. Are you an animal, Gerexo, to be free of conscience? Or are you a man, who is bound by his word?’
‘Piss off,’ the warrior said, false bravado rising in him, though his eyes still held that nervous taint.
‘I see,’ Verginius said quietly
, rising to his feet. Gerexo took a step back, and the rest of the warriors moved away from him. In a show of disarming himself , Verginius put his whittling knife down on the table and held up the half-formed wooden figurine.
‘This, Gerexo, is going to be Nemesis, the Roman goddess of vengeance. The only goddess or god of Rome who still watches over me. I am making her for Ategnio. ’ He strolled across the room, one hand held out peaceably, the other cradling the half-formed figurine. Gerexo peered intently at the wooden shape even as Verginius swung it up, changing his grip as he did so, forming it into a shapeless ligneous dagger, which he drove into the stunned warrior’s temple. Gerexo started to shake, still on his feet, as Verginius turned and strode back across the room.
‘A vow is a vow. An o ath is an oath. You live by them like a human or you die breaking them like an animal. Now , someone take him down to the cucina and prepare him for the evening meal.’
‘You want to… eat him?’ asked one of the other warriors, shocked, even as Gerexo finally toppled forward to the floor, shaking and bucking in his terrible death.
‘ You heard: h e is not a human. He is an animal. And w e eat animals, don’t we ? And then also there will be no suspicious Arenosio body to bring Fronto to our doorstep. Now hurry, my man. You are oath-bound to me. Wouldn’t want to break your oath to me, would you?’
Shocked, but suddenly driven to action by the appalling inference they might be next, two of the men approached the body and one leaned over and pommel-bashed the shaking warrior on the head with his sword, putting Gerexo out of his misery.
‘Off to the kitchens now, swiftly. And I presume the rest of us are all good, vow-keeping humans, yes?’
Nods are silent, and the room was quiet as the tomb .
Chapter Fourteen
FRONTO strode across to the colonnade, then into the shadows be neath and through the open door with Galronus close behind. He was finally attired in his normal clothes – a striped tunic denoting his rank, a military belt, though without the weapons , fine boots and a white linen cloak. Galronus wore similar garments , and few who didn’t know him would be able to tell his Gallic origins.
‘Ah good, you got my message,’ murmured Rubrius Callo , waving them in. His voice dropped to little more than a whisper. ‘My clients are in the next room. No amount of common sense seems to seep through the bone of their heads into their brains. Neither of them is willing to settle for anything less than the total, and neither trusts a m an who turns up out of the blue offering them a lot of money. On that point, at least I feel they are onto something, and sadly I do not know anything about you myself to reassure them. I thought that if perhaps you were to speak to them directly, we could move this whole matter toward a swift conclusion.’
‘Nothing would please me more,’ Fronto replied, keeping his own tone low.
‘I am glad you have decided to dress appropriately. Our last encounter did little to promote your good breeding, if I may be frank.’
Fronto smiled. ‘Yesterday we were deliberately keeping our identities hidden from someone in the city. That issue has partially resolved itself and we now have no reason to hide ourselves. Your bruising is healing well, Rubrius Callo.’
‘Thank you,’ smiled the lawyer. ‘Regular visits to the baths, poultices of raw meat and a regular suffusion of herbs steeped in very expensive wine seem to be doing the trick. One day we will have a proper circus in Tarraco, with seating, and no one will have to stand in a sweaty crowd, jostled by the lowlifes of the town.’
‘I look forward to the day,’ replied Fronto as the lawyer strolled across and opened the next door. Fronto and Galronus followed him in.
Two well-dressed, coiffured and manicured young men sat behind the desk in the next room, sipping wine as they sampled pastries from a fine plate. Fronto took an instant dislike to them on sight. Though both men looked up and neither was dressed quite a s well as Fronto, neither rose in deference to a man clearly their social superior. In fact , they made no attempt at greeting at all, merely launching into more of Callo’s pastries and washing it down with wine.
‘Gaius and Tertius Dolabella, may I present Marcus Falerius Fronto and his companion the Remi prince Galronus.’
‘What’s a Remi?’ snorted one of the boys through a mouthful of pastry.
‘ I am,’ barked Galronus taking a step forward and leaning on the table with both hands. The lad recoiled, though there was more distaste in his expression than fear. Fronto’s hatred of the pair increased to dangerous levels .
‘Gentlemen, please let’s keep this civil,’ said Rubrius Callo with an ingratiating smile, gesturing to the two seats opposite the nephews.
‘’The domini Dolabella wish firstly to know with whom they are speaking. Names only carry weight if they are familiar , you see .’
Fronto nodded and took a seat, Galronus sinking into the chair beside him, his eyes carrying daggers into those of the boy who’d annoyed him.
‘I am Marcus Falerius Fronto, former t ribune in the service of the Quaestor of Hispania Ulterior, son of one of the ordo of Puteoli in Campania, veteran of Gaul and former legate of Caesar’s Tenth Legion Equestris, vanquisher of Vercingetorix and conqueror of Aquitania,’ – that bit might be stretching things, but these boys would only be impressed by titles – ‘ son-in-law of the former legate of the Eighth legion, Quintus Lucilius Balbus , descend a nt of the gens Valerius, and f ormer colleague and friend of your uncle Longinus, with whom I served against the Helvetii and Ariovistus. This is my associate Galronus, a prince of Rome’s greatest ally north of the Alpes , the Remi, a Roman landholder and shortly to be a member of the e questrian order.’
Galronus didn’t look like a member of the equestrian order right now. He looked like a murderer eyeing up his next target, and Fronto had to bite his cheek to stop himself from smiling at the sight of the young lad opposite who had started to sweat uncontrollably under the Remi’s glare. His friend was apparently made of sterner stuff and was unimpressed at the long lineage and list of titles. Or possibly just too thick to register the value of it.
‘So you knew our uncle, who could have increased the family’s position and holdings in Hispania and Rome, but instead went flouncing off into Gaul with that big-nosed would-be dictator, fighting hairy barbarians no one cares about a thousand miles from civili s ation. I’m not impressed.’
‘Then you fucking well should be,’ snapped Fronto, rising to his feet, eyes blazing. The boy leaned back from the force of Fronto’s anger, almost falling off his chair, his face blanching.
‘Your uncle,’ Fronto went on in little more than a growl, ‘died like a true Roman on the field of battle, for the glory of his legion and of the republic. You aunt was a good woman, and looked after myself and a young man called Crispus for the winter after that campaign. We were good friends. How she could have been so short-sighted as to leave their precious estate to the pair of you is beyond me. I can only assume she was blinded to the truth by your ties as family. I am less blind.’
‘Your offer,’ prompted the other one, trying not to meet the gaze of Galronus, who had yet to look anywhere but straight at him.
‘My offer stands. The villa was worth four hundred thousand sestertii at the passing of your aunt, with all land and property and slaves. The value, while the pair of you have argued and dithered, has declined to around three hundred and fifty thousand, or so Rubrius Callo informs me. Thus at the moment, if you agreed to split the proceeds, you would receive at most one hundred and seventy five apiece. If you could agree on one owner, even he would be lucky to make three hundred and fifty. Property takes some time to sell, usually, and the value will steadily fall throughout the process.’
The other boy reached out and shook his brother’s arm, pointing at Galronus, who had started to growl under his breath.
‘I,’ Fronto went on, ‘wish to see your uncle and aunt’s mausoleum continually tended and maintained. I wish to see the villa thrive and be respected and valued. And bec
ause of my ties to your sadly-depleted family, I am willing to pay over the odds to see that happen . I can free six hundred thousand within a month and am willing to sign any deal Rubrius Callo comes up with to that effect as soon as you both agree. That is three hundred thousand sestertii each. More than you will get any other way.’
‘Make it four hundred thousand each and I’ll sign,’ the stronger of the two said. His brother, wide-eyed, shook his head urgently. Galronus’ growling was getting louder. The young man began to edge his chair away.
‘That would be twice the villa’s worth. I am not that inclined to support your future dissolute and self-indulgent lives by that amount. I am quite serious about my offer. You now know who I am. There will be no increase in the offer and there will be no other offer. I doubt any other resident in the area can come close to the asking price. Six hundred thousand is my only offer and I give you one day until I withdraw it, following which I will refer your disrespect over the tomb of a Roman veteran and hero to the former governor and ex-consul Metellus Nepos , who is a friend of both Caesar and your deceased uncle and will be most distressed to hear of the situation.’
He smiled sweetly at the two boys. ‘I know you’re of noble Roman blood and that is an important thing to remember, but only if you back it with a noble soul. You think you’re big fish in the small pond of Tarraco, but think on this: I am a big fish in a much bigger pond and I’m about to open the sluice gate between them. Is that what you want? Think about three hundred thousand sestertii apiece. Within a year you could have caught every venereal disease going and drunk yourselves to death, which will go a long way to appeasing me. And perhaps then Galronus will not be inclined to peel you and turn you inside out for offending him and his people, which I suspect is his intention right now.’
The more outspoken of the two looked across at Galronus and his face paled. The other boy was almost back at the office’s rear wall now.
‘One day,’ Fronto said, slapping both hands on the table and making the pair jump in their chairs. ‘Speak to Rubrius Callo with your answer. Good day, both of you.’
Marius' Mules IX: Pax Gallica Page 37
