He finished his little speech with a dramatic sweep of his arm and looked around at the assembled faces, pleased not note the nods here and there among the officers, the thoughtful looks on almost every upturned face, and the sheer pride in Crispus’ young eyes. He dropped his arms to his sides and gazed levelly at Caesar.
For a long moment, the general sat silently, staring at him, and then suddenly burst into genuine and noisy laughter.
There were nervous laughs scattered around the tent from those who didn’t see the joke but feared for their careers if they weren’t seen to follow Caesar. Fronto almost smiled as he watched Plancus wrestling with himself, laughing madly while he frowned, unsure why he was doing so.
Finally, Caesar slapped his hand down on the arm of his chair and wiped his eyes.
“Fronto, you are absolutely priceless. I can see why you never went into politics. A magnificent collection of points you made, but you deliver great ideas in common language, while gesturing like a hawker of meats in the forum. And you’re sweating so much your tunic’s actually changed colour!”
More laughter. Fronto sighed and merely waited for it to finish.
“Fine!” Caesar smiled. “You win me over. I can be as merciful as I can harsh. Let’s go see the Suessiones and see what they can offer.”
Fronto’s shoulders dropped with relief and, as the general left the tent, the other officers filing out behind him, a number of them slapped him on the back or grasped his arm as they left. Lastly, Crispus and Balbus joined him and the three left the tent.
“Magnificent, Marcus” Crispus grinned. “You had the general convinced by the end of your first point. That last one though… worthy of Scaevola himself.”
“Who the hell is Scaevola? You’re in danger of slipping back into rhetoric yourself!”
Balbus laughed.
“He’s right, though. That was very good. I didn’t realise you thought that far ahead. I never assumed you thought beyond the next drink or the next fight!”
Fronto frowned.
“I just hope he doesn’t demand too much and push the Suessiones into a fight anyway. Do we really want to go and watch negotiations?”
Balbus shook his head.
“I don’t, but I think Caesar might expect you to be there, given the role you just played.”
“Oh, he doesn’t need me. And I have a jug in my tent that’s still half full. Cita would moan at me if he thought I was wasting his precious wine.”
Almost an hour had passed with Fronto, Balbus and Crispus lounging in the tent, working through Fronto’s now copious stock of wine. The mood had been light and frivolous since the meeting at Caesar’s tent.
Crispus grinned at Fronto.
“So… about your woman, Marcus?”
Fronto grimaced.
“What about her?”
“Well I can’t devote the senior officers of the Eleventh for the rest of the campaign to baby-sitting a girl for you. You need to decide what to do. Are you going to leave her here?”
Fronto shrugged.
“Can you have your tribunes deliver her to the elders in Noviodunum? She’ll be safe there, once the treaty’s been ratified.”
Crispus frowned.
“We can do that, certainly, but she trusts you, Marcus. It should be you who takes her if she’s to go.”
Fronto shook his head.
“I think not. The bloody woman attaches herself to me like a limpet. If your tribunes take her, she might stay there. Not with me though.”
Crispus smiled.
“Very well. I shall arrange it for the morning. But you may regret it on the cold nights in the hills…”
Balbus laughed.
“What is it with you, Marcus? Woman just want you.”
The three were still laughing when there was a knock at the door. Before Fronto could call out, however, the familiar voice of Sabinus from outside addressed another man.
“It’s Fronto’s tent. Don’t stand on ceremony.”
Fronto grinned as the staff officer flung the leather aside and stepped in.
“Are you still sober, man of the hour?”
Behind Sabinus came Tetricus, with the tall figure of Galronus of the Remi stooping to enter and bringing up the rear.
“Others will be along shortly” Sabinus stated. “Your man Priscus is busy arguing with Cita over wine and beer…”
“Oh, good…” smiled Crispus vaguely.
“But I thought you’d like to know that we are now officially allied with the Suessiones. They’re supplying us with troops, gold and provisions and lots of information. Their leader’s gone to consult with Caesar.”
Fronto smiled.
“Good sense does sometimes win out, then.”
Sabinus nodded.
“So, I think we’ll be here for a few days now and, since you and I might be called on at any time to go deal with official matters, let’s make the most of this evening.”
He sat down and grabbed three mugs from the table, passing one to Tetricus and one to Galronus. The engineer watched happily as the staff officer filled the mug.
“Hadn’t even got a third of the way out into the ditch with my ramp, let alone got the towers built. Caesar reckons that as soon as they saw what we were doing, they gave in. Says he’s going to give me a phalera for my efforts. It’s rare that an engineer gets decorated!”
Sabinus nodded.
“Certainly is. Well deserved though. That ramp idea of yours gave us the Suessiones without a fight.”
“Thank you” a voice said.
Fronto turned to look in surprise at the Remi nobleman, who raised his mug in salute.
“Remi and Suessiones thank, legatus Fronto.”
Taking a deep swig from the mug, the man reached up and unfastened the finely-crafted golden torc that hung around his neck. With a smile, he held it out to Fronto. The legate stared at it for a moment, so Galronus nodded and gestured with it.
“Fronto says thank you” interjected Sabinus, passing the torc on. “Now that’s enough giving of presents. Tomorrow we’ll probably be ironing out treaties and training Belgae, so for now, let’s get good and drunk before your Primus Pilus gets here with his dice and takes me for everything I own.
PART TWO: PRIDE OF THE BELGAE
Chapter 12
(Roman camp outside the fortified oppidum of Noviodunum)
“ Duplicarius: A soldier on double the basic pay.”
The early afternoon sun glinted off the standards and equipment piles of the Tenth legion. The camp had settled into that limbo during a campaign when there was currently no direction or action, but the constant threat of it.
Despite Caesar’s earlier desire to press on with the campaign, he seemed to have changed his mind and over two weeks had passed since the deal had been struck between them and the Suessiones, during which time the senior officers had been closeted away, leaving the legions and the auxiliary units to their own devices.
Fronto had been called regularly to staff meetings, though his input had been minimal, he being entirely uninterested in facts, figures and agreements regarding supply, levying of new auxiliaries and the terms and conditions of the alliance. Fronto had taken every possible opportunity to slip away and relax, though most of the people he would generally relax with were also required to attend those meetings.
He had tried to get into the oppidum to make use of the local taverns as the lower ranks were doing when off-duty, but had spotted that Bellovaci woman again in the square with a face like thunder and had hurriedly left without a drink.
And so he had been forced to turn elsewhere for a drinking companion, and had been pleasantly surprised at the good company he had found entirely by accident.
Galronus of the Remi smiled at Fronto as he shook the dice.