Philopater.
He drew a sharp breath and bit his lip to prevent crying out as a man unseen to his left grasped his middle finger and snapped it to vertical, breaking the knuckle.
“My employer is inclined to be generous, particularly with the benefit of the doubt.”
“Really?” Fronto panted. “Funny way of showing it.”
Philopater leaned closer and his features became clearer.
“You are clearly Caesar’s creature. And yet” he said as he stepped sideways and put his finger to his lip, “it is well known in some circles that you are a disapprover of the maniac and do rarely see eye to eye with him. This prompts my employer to take an interest in you.”
He leaned closer again.
“Sever your ties with the man and stay well out of the way. Be not involved.”
Fronto laughed.
“Caesar may be less than I would hope, but he’s a paragon of virtue next to you and your master.”
He bit his lips enough to draw plenty of blood as the fourth finger on his left hand joined the middle one with a snap.
“Torture is hardly likely to win me over, you Egyptian faggot” he panted.
Philopater nodded.
“Indeed. You are made of sterner stuff. However, our reach is long. Remember your mother and think about your sister and that lovely little thing you brought back from Gaul. You’re not a medical man, so you probably don’t know that broken skulls can be extremely catching, very contagious.”
Fronto growled.
“In time,” Philopater continued, “my employer may make you an offer that even Croesus would be hard put to refuse, but a show of faith by disassociating yourself with Caesar is required at this juncture. This will be your one and only opportunity to decide which side of the coin looks more favourable to you; be careful not to waste it in bravado.”
Fronto nodded, smiling knowingly.
Philopater frowned at him.
“What?”
“You.”
“What about me?”
As the man leaned in, Fronto lashed out with his foot, smashing his boot directly into the man’s face and sending him flailing across the floor.
“I was wondering what you’d look like with a flat nose” Fronto laughed as the grip on his arms tightened.
The gaunt Egyptian stood slowly, unfolding like some Greek war machine. He reached his full height and turned to Fronto, his face covered in blood, his nose broken in several places above a badly split lip.
“Hold him.”
As the grips tightened further and fresh hands clamped themselves on Fronto’s legs, he watched Clodius’ henchman reach down among the workmen’s tools and pull out a large, wooden mallet of the sort used for removing old plaster.
Steadying himself against what was to come, Fronto smiled and spat at the Egyptian’s feet.
“Good night, master Fronto.”
The hammer came round at a dizzying speed and after the briefest explosion of crimson agony, Fronto’s world went black.
Pain.
Pain and white light.
Fronto closed his eyes again.
“What?”
A hand touched his arm and he flinched.
“Calm, Marcus. It is I.”
He opened his eyes again, with all the discomfort and pain that brought and slowly focused on the figure of Lucilia by his side. A second shape beyond resolved into that of his sister.
“I…”
He tried to rise but his world exploded with white pain.
“Lie still.” The voice of Faleria. “Lucilia here has treated your wounds with the consummate skill of a professional, aided by Posco, but it will be hours before you should sit up, let alone go about your ordinary business.”
Fronto tried to nod, but settled for a painful smile.
“How did I get here?”
Another voice joined the melee and he turned to see Priscus and Galronus standing to the other side of the couch.
“You were dumped at the front door in a large grain sack. What in the name of seven stupid Gods were you thinking, leaving the house on your own?”
Fronto winced and Faleria waved a finger.
“He’s too weak and bleary for recriminations and anger, Gnaeus. Wait until he’s stronger before you beat him with the stupidity stick.”
Lucilia leaned forward.
“What can you feel?”
Fronto laughed sharply.
“Pain.”
“Specifically” the girl said quietly.
“My left hand feels like it’s been under the wheel of a cart. My ribs are aching, as are my shoulders and neck. But my face feels like I fell off the Tarpeian Rock head first.”
“Good.”
“Good?” he enquired in astonishment.
“Yes,” Lucilia replied. “If you can feel the pain then there is no permanent damage to your system. If you couldn’t feel the pain, I would have panicked. And you have only mentioned the wounds we had already located.”
Fronto sighed.
“Philopater and his gladiators. They really went for it.”
He grinned.
“But I broke the bastard’s nose in the process.”
Priscus nodded.
“Well at least that’s something. The gathering are long gone, but Milo has stayed on for a while. We’ve been knocking about a few ideas.”
Fronto clenched his good hand and turned his head painfully to look at them.
“Here’s an idea: get out there with a bunch of men and find Clodius and Philopater. Follow them and see if there’s any hope of getting them alone. If you get the chance, bag ‘em up like they did to me and bring them here.”
Priscus nodded.
“We were planning to do just that, but I didn’t want to go before you woke.”
Fronto smiled at him.
“Thank you, the pair of you. I should listen to you more often and not run off on my own.”
Priscus and Galronus nodded to him and then left the room, their voices fading as they moved through the house.
He turned back to the two women.
“I had no idea you were a doctor?”
Lucilia laughed.
“Hardly, but where we live there is not a great deal of access to a proper medicus and I have grown up taking care of the horses at the villa. The shape may be different, but the principle is the same.”
Fronto blinked.
“You’re a horse doctor?”
“After a fashion.”
She leaned closer.
“You had a narrow escape there, Marcus. That blow to your head could very easily have killed you, or at least left you blind, deaf, or a gibbering lunatic. Faleria has told me about what’s happening.”
Fronto sighed.
“Has she indeed. Thank you, Faleria. Balbus will not appreciate us drawing his daughter into all of this.”
Faleria approached and waved her finger admonishingly in his face.
“You cretin. You drew her into this when you agreed to bring her to Rome. I’m just giving her appropriate warnings. She cannot be expected to look out for herself if she is unaware of the dangers. Really, Marcus; there are times when I wonder how you command a legion, when you don’t seem to have even the tiniest fragment of common sense.”
She tapped the finger on his forehead and then stepped back.
“Try and remember that you’re home now, Marcus, and you have friends and family around to help.”
Lucilia gently mopped his temple and he winced at even the faint, whispery touch of her hand.
“It feels like I’ve been kicked by a horse!”
“It looks a lot like it, too” Lucilia smiled.