Caesar gripped the arms of his campaign chair so tightly his knuckles went white.
“Brutus, go and get some rest.”
The officer nodded and, standing slowly and painfully, turned to leave.
Caesar drummed his fingers on the chair arms irritably. Fronto tried to shuffle out of the general’s line of sight. A number of times he’d seen Caesar planning something like this and had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, resulting in his being landed with an unpleasant or arduous task. He was determined this time not to be Caesar’s victim.
In the event, when Caesar did look up, his eyes locked only momentarily on Fronto before slipping sideways to Labienus.
“Very well. Labienus, you’ve represented Rome in general and me in particular on a number of occasions. You’ve a good command of rhetoric and are not easily fazed.”
Labienus bowed, respectfully, though hesitantly.
“Thank you, general.”
Caesar smiled his most predatory smile.
“Don’t thank me, Titus. You’ve just volunteered to be my next ambassador. I haven’t the time to develop diplomatic frippery with you, so I want you to go and keep him busy. Improvise. Just be rhetorical and act the part of the ambassador, but do not play humble to him. I need you to buy us time.”
Fronto raised himself a little from the chair and gestured to Caesar.
“That’s a little dangerous, general. You heard how he reacted to Brutus. If we keep pushing him, he might break. You’re talking about a very warlike and proud man here.”
Instant regret. Caesar’s eyes alighted upon him.
“You are, of course, absolutely correct, Marcus. Take an entire cohort of the Tenth. Speak to Longinus to arrange cavalry support. Go in force, and make sure the entire unit is in full ceremonial uniform, including crests. Don’t take the First Cohort though, as I’ll need your primus pilus here.”
Fronto nodded miserably. There was no point in arguing. He’d done this to himself.
“What will Priscus be required for, Caesar?”
The general smiled the same, tight, wolfish smile as before.
“Obviously Fronto, while you’re keeping this arrogant German occupied, we’ll be marshalling our forces and preparing for war. After you’ve spoken to him, have Longinus sent to me. He’s going to need to put his auxilia in order very sharply. You can all go about your business now. I need to think for a while.”
The officer rose and made to leave, but Fronto stood and confronted the general.
“Caesar, how long do you need? When are we to come back? Will there be a signal? We’ll need to know these things.”
Caesar shook his head irritably.
“You’ll stay there until I send a dispatch rider to you. Then you’ll know we’re ready. Now go and get things underway.”
As the officers piled out of the tent, Labienus caught Fronto, grumbling audibly, by the elbow.
“Marcus, feel free to go back in and persuade Caesar otherwise. I can get by with a small ceremonial guard.”
Fronto shook his head resignedly.
“No point. There’s no way he’s going to change his mind now, and I was right anyway. This could go very wrong and you could need support. Can I suggest we meet at my tent in around an hour? I have to see a few people beforehand.”
Labienus nodded.
“I’ve got some planning to do myself.”
As the other staff officer strode off in the direction of his own quarters, Fronto made for the praetorium of the Tenth and found one of the duty centurions overseeing the polishing of the standards.
“Centurion. Leave those for now. Find Lucius Velius and get him to come to my tent as fast as you can.”
The centurion saluted and jogged off in the direction of the temporary mess tent.
He looked down at the two soldiers polishing the standards.
“You two. Get into kit as fast as is humanly possible. Go to the staff quarters and find Gaius Longinus and Decius Brutus. I don’t care whether they’re sleeping, just wake them and tell them I need to see them urgently.”
Fronto smiled. Whatever happened, he was always proud of the Tenth. He reached his tent and had just managed to remove his cloak and unstrap his cuirass before a familiar cough outside announced the presence of Velius. He smiled again. He imagined he was something of a novelty among the command. His was the only tent of a senior officer with no guards outside and no servants within. There were better uses for the men of the Tenth than challenging visitors to their commanding officer, and servants meant clutter and constant company. Fronto preferred a little peace and quiet and was quite happy to pour his own drinks and don his own armour. Velius would cough three times and then make a suitably sarcastic remark just loud enough for him to hear.
Tempted though he was to wait and see what Velius would call him, time was getting a little short.
“Come in Lucius. Don’t stand on ceremony.”
Velius entered with his customary scowl.
“Sir, I’ve got a lot to do. Without wanting to sound insulting, why don’t you get Gnaeus to drink with you? He’s only wandering around finding people to shout at anyway.”
Fronto smiled again.
“It’s not a social matter, Lucius, though you might want to pour yourself a drink anyway.”
Velius’ eyes narrowed and one eyebrow rose in an inquiring manner.
“Why are you being agreeable with me? What are you planning?”
Fronto finished removing his armour and sank onto a couch, reaching out for the wine.
“I sort of accidentally volunteered myself for something stupid. And I can’t think of anyone better to go on a stupid mission with.”
He grinned a mad grin and he handed a mug of wine to the centurion and poured another for himself.
Velius sighed.
“What’s the job?”
“We’re going to see the Germans, Lucius. We’re going to be the military escort and guard for Labienus as he spins out enough bullshit to keep Ariovistus busy whilst Caesar prepares for war.”
Again, the grin.
Velius slung the wine down his throat and banged the goblet down on the table emphatically.
“Have you any idea how much trouble we could land ourselves in? How many men are you taking, and why not Priscus? He’s just being a miserable lazy fart and making our lives difficult anyway.”
“We’re taking the Second Cohort and a cavalry contingent. I don’t know how big that’ll be until Longinus gets here. I’ve asked for him and Brutus to join us. Labienus will be here in about forty five minutes too. You’re going to command the infantry while we’re there.”
Velius nodded.
“Do we know how long we’re to play hostage?”
Fronto’s’ brows knitted together.
“Until Caesar says otherwise. I get the feeling I just said the wrong thing at the wrong time and Caesar’s venting his irritation on me.”
“Nothing new then. I’ll get the Second Cohort formed up.”
“Wait a bit. I need you to be fully aware of what’s going on, so you’d better speak to the others too.”
The two sat and drank in silence for a few minutes until there was a tentative knock on the doorframe and, without waiting for an invitation, Longinus walked in. Fronto smiled.
“Lucky I’m not naked, eh?”
Longinus nodded.
“Yes, but who for?”
He took a seat opposite Fronto and nodded at the centurion.
“Velius.”
“Sir.”
“Sir? It’s a preciously rare moment I hear you call someone that!”
Velius smiled.
“Ah, but you’re a big nob now sir.”
Longinus sighed and raised his eyes skywards.
“What’s all this about then? I’m a little busy at the moment. I’ve had over a thousand cavalry turn up over the last few days, and they’re only from the local tribes. It’s a nightmare of organisation.”
Fronto smiled again.
“Well now you’ve got another job, Gaius. I’m accompanying Labienus on the next diplomatic mission to the Germans. Well, Velius and I and the Second Cohort. Caesar wants you to supply a cavalry contingent. He didn’t tell me how many, but I’d imagine an ala would fit nicely with a legionary cohort. What d’you think?”