Ambustus sat behind his desk, rubbing one hand through his thinning hair as he counted down a list with his other forefinger, his lips moving silently. The legionary who had run ahead was standing to one side of the room looking extremely nervous.
'Prefect?'
The man held forth a hand without looking up, his voice rising to a whisper as he counted over the top of the interruption. When he'd reached the bottom of the page, Ambustus scribbled his figure in a tally column on another sheet and straightened.
'Ah, the inimicable Fronto and Catháin and your small group of heavies. I see you have taken to intimidating my men now. What can I do for you? Nothing trivial, I hope?'
Fronto felt his ire rising again and Catháin's hand clapped down on his shoulder in warning. He allowed the anger to subside. Few bureaucrats reacted well to provocation.
'Prefect Ambustus, my sincere apologies for this intrusion, but the matter is of extreme import to my business. I shall not keep you long.'
The man leaned back in his chair. 'Go on, sir.'
'I have a large cargo of amphorae that are due to be shipped to Rome on the afternoon tide.'
'Poor timing, I'm afraid.'
'So I gather. The captain of the Demeter would not allow the loading of the cargo, despite the fact that my factor here tells me that the ship rides so high in the water she can only be empty, and all her rigging and crew appear ready to set sail. I had believed we had a deal in respect of my shipping cargo in any vessel that has space.'
Ambustus gave an exaggerated sigh. 'Would that such were possible, Fronto. I realise this might seriously damage your business. What vintage is the cargo?'
Fronto narrowed his eyes suspiciously. 'A poor native brew.'
'Ah well. Sadly, I was going to offer to buy a portion of the cargo in recompense, but I cannot stomach the local wines. There is, then, very little I can do. My hands are tied.' He held up his hands open palmed to demonstrate the phrase. Fronto narrowed his eyes further.
'I suppose I could find a small cut to help ease your troubles, Ambustus…'
The prefect frowned and then, realisation dawning, lowered his hands again. 'You misunderstand me, Fronto. I am not seeking a bribe. This is not a matter of sweetening the pot until I relent. I simply cannot give you permission to load the Demeter.'
'Why not?' snapped Fronto.
Ambustus gave Fronto a pointed look, nodding at his companions meaningfully. The former legate pursed his lips in annoyance, but turned to Masgava and Catháin. ‘All four of you head back outside and wait for me there. I'll be along presently.'
The big Numidian gave him a disapproving look, but the four men backed out of the room and Fronto waited until he could hear nothing but the rhythmic work of the clerks. 'Alright. What's this about, Ambustus?'
The prefect sighed and gestured for Fronto to sit. When the former legate made it quite clear that sitting was not going to happen, he took a deep breath.
'It is not just the Demeter, Fronto. I cannot allow you to load any cargo on any Roman vessel in port.'
Fronto opened his mouth to shout something, but Ambustus pushed on.
'It is not my decision, before you threaten to have me beaten, Fronto. I am required by order of the proconsul himself to keep every Roman vessel in port empty and prepared to sail at short notice. Every ship that arrives will become subject to that order, and each ship already in port has been forced to empty itself of any cargo and cancel all shore leave for its crew.'
Fronto felt the wind taken from his sails at the realisation that the prefect was, in this case, completely powerless.
'Why?'
Ambustus leaned forward and lowered his voice conspiratorially. 'If I tell you this, it is told in confidence to a member of Caesar's staff, for all your retired status. I will hold you to your military oath and expect you not to breathe a word of it to another living soul. Do you understand?'
Fronto, rather taken aback by the vehemence of the man's words, nodded. 'Agreed.'
'There are small caravans of slaves and booty coming in all the time and being stored under guard in anonymous warehouses in Massilia, but I have been told to await one particularly large convoy, following which all goods in storage are to be combined with the new arrival and shipped to Rome in one fleet with solid military escort.'
'A big convoy, then?'
'The centurion who delivered the orders intimated that I would be able to buy most kingdoms with the proceeds from it. Booty the likes of which you will never have seen. So you understand why I cannot release the ship to you. You could ask the captain, but unless he is willing to defy the proconsul's orders, you will have no better luck there. It simply cannot be done.'
Fronto sagged slightly. The man was right. It mattered not how angry he became or what arguments he could marshal, no captain or officer in Massilia was going to defy Caesar's orders, even for a senior officer. No amount of honey could sweeten the pot enough for that.
'My apologies for wasting your time, Ambustus. I appreciate your candour.'
The prefect gave a troubled smile. 'I'm truly sorry, Fronto. I do hope you can find alternative transport until this matter is resolved, and rest assured that as soon as my hands are no longer tied by the proconsul's needs I will happily release any free space to you. In fact I wish I could help you defy the boule more than I can, given the stink they are raising over our blocking up of the port with so many ships docked without intention to sail.'
'Thank you, Ambustus. I'll take my leave and keep my tongue. Good luck with your task.'
Turning on his heel, he marched from the room and through the corridors until he emerged into the sunlight once more, where his friends had gathered in a small knot and were arguing. They fell silent as they saw him and waited impatiently as he strolled over.
'The prefect cannot help us and it's not his doing. No Roman ship is leaving port for the foreseeable future by order of the proconsul, and nothing will change that, We need to find an alternative transport for the Helvian wine as fast as possible.'
'Why are the ships impounded?' Aurelius asked curiously.
'I cannot relay that information, I'm afraid. I gave my word.'
'Caesar's treasure convoy,' snorted Catháin, and Fronto frowned at him.
'Keep your voice down, man. Where did you hear that?'
'In a bar yesterday. It's only rumour, but it's well-supported by visible evidence. They say a treasure convoy is coming to Massilia on its way to Rome.'
'And it's supposed to be secret,' murmured Fronto. 'I don't think even most of the army know yet by the sounds of it. Keep this to yourself, man. If word leaks to the wrong sectors of Gaul and that convoy is attacked, there could be a hell of a backlash at us.'
Catháin shrugged. 'The news is out there, Fronto. Perhaps you should tell the prefect, so he doesn't blame you?'
Fronto sighed again. 'I suppose it'll be common knowledge soon enough anyway. Since no Roman ships are moving, the Massilian boule are hounding Ambustus. When he's forced to explain why or lose his deal with the city, the council will know, and within a day word will be on every street. I suspect I'm safe. Safer than that convoy, anyway.'
'Regardless, my prime concern has to be finding another ship for the Helvian amphorae.'