The general’s expression faltered between anger, surprise and pride. ‘I will not be spoken…’
‘I will speak to you as I see fit until you acknowledge that I am here as one of your officers and put me in charge of a legion.’ He bridled. ‘Preferably the Tenth!’
Caesar actually gave a low chuckle, though there was little humour in it. ‘The Tenth has a legate. All the legions do.’ He stood from his chair, hammering his fist on the table to punctuate his words. ‘You turned your back on me, Marcus! But not only that! I could have worked around that. I am not infallible, but I know it. I would have taken you back into the fold even that very day. But you walked off into the arms of that overweight, overemotional, warmonger and despot Pompey! And you did it willingly, because you saw him as an improvement on me!’
Fronto blinked. He’d never considered it from that angle.
‘How do you think that sits with me, Fronto? You’ve clearly come to a sensible conclusion in the end, though, since you’re back. So now you know. You know that Pompey is a rabid dog, ready to savage the Republic, barely contained in a smiling human shell. Shall I tell you about Crassus? Shall I tell you just how much I have to do just to keep a level of balance that maintains safety for the whole of Rome? You think I fight here for glory?’
He stepped out from behind the desk and marched on Fronto with such force that the former legate actually took a couple of steps backwards, the general’s finger wagging at his chest.
‘You do — I know that. You and Cicero and the others. The dissenters and pacifists. You think I do this for vainglory. Whole portions of the senate are of the same opinion. But you and they have no idea, Marcus. You have not the slightest clue about the pressure under which I find myself every waking moment. Pompey is a raging, bloodthirsty lunatic wearing a thin veil of civility. And Crassus is a plutomaniac. He would sell Rome if he was offered the right price. And me? You think I wade through the swamps of Gaul and hunt criminals for fun? Tell me!’
‘Sir?’
‘Tell me why I am here. Knowing now what you do about my peers in the city.’
Fronto’s mind was racing. Caught horribly on the back foot in a situation where he’d expected to have the upper hand, he was struggling, but new thoughts were battering his subconscious. New opinions were beginning to form in his mind. He cleared his throat.
‘You fight to stay ahead of them.’
‘Yes. Yes I do. Pompey is the hero of the pirates and the slave wars. He is a three-time triumphant general of Rome. All the people see — the senate as well as the plebs — is a hero. They might very well hand him a damned crown if he won another victory for the Republic. But you know what Rome would be like if Pompey ruled the roost?’
‘Hades. It would be like Hades. Constant war at the expense of the people.’
‘Yes it would.’ Caesar stepped back and made use of his carefully cleared pacing space. ‘And what of Crassus?’
‘Rome would be a commodity. Everything in it would be a commodity. The only reason he hasn’t risen to the top is because he hasn’t…’ The truth came crashing in on Fronto and silenced him.
‘Precisely!’ Caesar snapped. ‘Pompey has the military record but has to keep his true face hidden. He builds the people theatres and woos them in his bid for supremacy so that they do not see him for what he is. Crassus has the money but needs a triumph to go with his purchase of senators. Both seek the power that Rome cannot bestow — never has since Tarquinius the Proud was exiled and the city abolished the monarchy. And both could conceivably actually achieve the unthinkable. And here am I. I am the third player in this Greek tragedy — The Aeneas to their Paris and Hector. I have to do whatever I can to stay ahead of them both. I have less money than Crassus, but more support among the people, and a better record. Pompey is a threat, but with every victory we achieve, I win the plebs over and remove a strut from beneath him. Gaul is my stepping stone to climb above the pair.’
‘And then take the crown.’ Even as Fronto’s lips closed, he started, aware that he’d said out loud something he would barely even contemplate thinking to himself.
‘No, Fronto,’ Caesar said quietly. ‘The Republic has provision for putting a man in charge when necessary: Dictator. It has its uses. But no Roman will wear a crown while I am alive.’
Despite himself, Fronto was impressed. How far he felt this to be the truth was immaterial. The general was born to lead and to persuade, and he had Fronto in his purse now. Both men knew it.
‘I apologise, General.’
‘It was a stupid, short-sighted comment, made in a heated moment.’
‘Not for the comment about the crown. For doubting you against Pompey. The man is an animal.’
‘Better!’ Caesar stopped pacing and leaned back against the table. ‘The fact remains, Fronto, that I have no space for a legate right now. You should stay on staff and advise. Roles will develop in due course.’
‘Ah, well.’ Fronto said and stepped forward, his excitement giving him an edge. ‘The thing is: you asked me to find you a way to excise your Gallic infection and I intend to do so. Give me free rein with my singulares. Give them whatever equipment and supplies they need, and give me the room to work. I will take my small unit and I will bring you Ambiorix.’
‘An offer I can’t refuse?’
‘An offer you shouldn’t refuse. For the loss of one officer and a score of men, I will bring you the enemy. But that’s only my side of the deal.’
‘I wasn’t aware this was a deal?’
‘Well it is. In return I ask you to halt your obliteration of the Belgae. Hold off the destruction in order to keep your Gallic allies and start the healing process this country needs. And…’ he grinned, ‘when this is over, you give me the Tenth.’
Caesar frowned. ‘You ask a lot, Marcus. I have vowed to bring Ambiorix down. Not only to the senate and the people, but to Venus herself! Would you ask me to defy a God?’
‘You’re not defying her. I will be your proxy.’
Caesar took a deep breath, his eyes flicking to the map, to the altar through the open doorway into the rear of the tent, and then back to Fronto. ‘I will meet you part way. I will give you weeks. A month, maybe… a head start in your hunt. I need to raise more cavalry, and I need to assure myself of the tribes’ loyalty, so I am calling the Gaulish assembly to meet here. It will allow time for the three new legions to acclimatise and will grant me the opportunity to increase our mounted contingent. Until that is done, I will hold off. But then I move on the Menapii unless you bring me Ambiorix’s head.’ He smiled cruelly. ‘And if you grant me the death of Ambiorix, I will move Hades itself to give you back your legion. How does that sound?’
‘Better than a poke in the eye with a shit-sponge, General.’
‘Then get moving, Fronto, and Fortuna be with you — as it seems she always is.’
‘We’ll move out in the morning, as soon as I’ve raped Cita’s supplies for everything we need. But before I go, I thought I should tell you about Rome.’
‘A hive of villainy. I know the place. Has Clodius got himself killed yet?’
Fronto smiled. ‘Not yet, Caesar. But we were there for Parentalia as we travelled north.’
‘Your father was a sad loss to the Republic, Marcus.’
Fronto felt a sudden pang of guilt. He had not even thought to visit his father’s tomb before they’d left, though it had not been Parentalia then. His mother would have been there for the festival.
‘Perhaps, General, but father was interred in Puteoli. Quintus and I thought it would be fitting to pay a visit and a libation to your mother and your daughter while we were there. After all, with you being a thousand miles away…’